Hospital Central: Hearts Connected
by eragona1
Summary: This is a fanfiction story about Dr. Maca Fernandez, the chief of the ER Department of Hospital Central, a trauma hospital in Madrid, Spain. Hospital Central was a weekly soap opera from Spain. Maca leaves Esther, the ex-wife whom she is dating (it's complicated) for a fellowship in Atlanta, GA. And reconnects with a childhood friend.
1. Chapter 1

Hearts Connected (a Hospital Central fan-fiction story) Chapters 1-3

 **Hearts Connected**

 **By Elizabeth Ragona**

Disclaimer: Hospital Central is a television show that aired in Spain on the Telecinco channel. This is a fan-fiction story. The Spanish characters are from the show, all other characters were my creation.

 **Chapter One – Going to Atlanta**

Just a few blocks from Gaudi's Sacred Family Church in downtown Madrid stands the venerable Hospital Central whose trauma center doctors are on the cutting edge of medicine and drama. Their lives, their relationships with their patients and with each other, and their heroic rescues generate stories throughout Madrid. The story of one rescue, a heart transplant performed on a child with Downs' Syndrome, went spinning around the world and fell onto the desk of a doctor in Atlanta, Georgia, and in response, an offer was made to bring the trauma doctors to Atlanta for the summer to share ideas and treatments.

Maca, or more officially Dr. Macarena Fernandez-Wilson, the director of the Emergency Department, had agreed to the fellowship two months ago when she felt like she needed to get away. Her relationship with her lover Veronica had gone cold, her ex-wife Esther was involved with Bea, and her parents had already asked if the kids could spend part of the summer at the family's vineyard in Jerez. So when the director of Emory's Eggleston Children's Hospital wrote to ask if she would like to bring a team to Atlanta to teach a class in emergency room pediatrics, she agreed immediately. She shared the invitation with her team, including Dr. Jacobo Muniz, Dr. Hector Bejar and Dr. Waldo Jaramillo. But Hector's own heart transplant a month ago prevented him from traveling. Waldo and his wife were having some marital problems about starting a family and he didn't want to leave her. Jacobo said that he was afraid of flying but Maca suspected that he was planning to steal her position of ER Director while she was away. She needed a break from all the drama and she suspected, or at least hoped, that Atlanta would be a welcome respite.

Maca almost reconsidered the trip when her reconciliation with Esther started heating up but Esther insisted that she go; it would be prestigious for the doctor and for Hospital Central. Maca then asked Esther to go with her to Atlanta but Esther didn't want to leave the kids alone with their grandparents for so long and she would keep an eye on Jacobo and watch for any games he might play.

They had a romantic evening the night before Maca's flight. Candlelit dinner included tender veal roasted in wine and rosemary sauce; sweet, little carrots that they fed each other, and a fragrant Cabernet that brought out Maca's sensual playfulness. The pastries with sweet cream filling were left on the table after Maca smeared a little of the cream on Esther's hand and then proceeded to kiss it off. They made love in Maca's bedroom with all three of their children asleep down the hall and, for the first time in several years, Maca felt like she was home.

Esther had spent most of the night after they made love just holding the taller woman while she slept, trying to memorize every curve and every scent so she wouldn't be so lonely while Maca was in Atlanta. Maca hadn't actually been sleeping; she was reveling in her beloved's caresses and soft kisses. Throughout the evening it had been the little things – Esther's shy smile, the way she moaned when Maca touched sensitive spots just behind her ears, the fact that she couldn't stop looking at Maca and then got embarrassed when Maca caught her staring – that reminded her of the early years of their relationship. In the beginning, Maca usually initiated their lovemaking but she'd find herself wrapped in Esther's arms after the passionate nurse had sent Maca soaring. Esther might be too shy to start things, but she had proven to be a playful, passionate and attentive lover and was very good at finishing things. Maca was actually grateful for the long flight from Madrid to Atlanta and the comfortable first-class seat so she could catch up on some much needed sleep.

Maca worried that she was going to have a hard time getting use to the time change. Her plane left Madrid at 11:30 a.m. and landed in Atlanta at 3:30 p.m. but it had taken nine hours to get there. The Delta stewardesses had been very good about letting her sleep and had woken her about an hour before landing so that she could freshen up.

The last e-mail from Dr. Belter, the director of Eggleston's emergency center, said that he would pick her up, so when she disembarked from the plane she scanned the crowd looking for someone who resembled his picture. The chauffer watched as she came through the door from the plane and he smiled; she looked exactly as the doctors at Eggleston had described: tall, beautiful, confident and casually elegant. He took a few steps forward to separate himself from the crowd, which caught Maca's attention. She noticed that he was a good-looking man of Latin decent dressed in a crisp, black suit with a white shirt and thin black tie. He had on a black cap and was carrying a sign that read "Dra. Fernandez".

He gave her a sharp, quick bow and said, "Bienvenudo a Atlanta, Doctora Fernandez. Soy Roberto."

"Gracias, Roberto. Pero, please, can we speak English? I need all the practice I can get." Maca asked in perfect but carefully spoken English.

"Vale, Doctora, as you prefer. Dr. Belter and the Eggleston Children's Hospital welcome you to Atlanta and hope you enjoy your stay. He sends his regrets that he cannot be here to meet you personally but a patient came in that he felt needed his attention."

"Oh, it must be very serious then."

"Si, Doctora, a six year old with a gunshot wound came in after lunch and Dr. Belter is still with him. May I have your luggage claim tickets please? I will return for you in a moment."

She thanked him as she handed him the stapled pack of tickets and then retrieved her cell phone from her favorite leather backpack. While she waited for him to return, she checked her voice messages and deleted all except the one from Veronica, who said she would miss her and ordered her to have some fun on the trip. She then sent text messages to Esther and her mother telling them that she had arrived safely. A few minutes later, Esther replied that she was glad that Maca was safe and now perhaps Teresa, the not-so-psychic emergency room desk clerk, would stop scaring her about plan crashes over the shark-infested Atlantic Ocean. Her mother simply thanked God for the safe trip and told her to look professional at all times.

She looked down at the boots stretched out in front of her and wondered if her mother would think she looked professional right now. The beautiful doctor was turning heads in her brown leather jacket and tight tan pants tucked into riding boots. Her thick brown hair flowed in curls around her shoulders. Most strangers she met outside of "El Central" were surprised to find out that she wasn't a model or actress but that she was a 37-year-old pediatrician with three kids.

She smiled at the thought of her three children. Shortly after her marriage to Esther, the Director of Nurses at Hospital Central, Maca had their son Pedro. He had been planned with the biological assistance of Dr. Devilla, the retired chief of the hospital. The boy was a bright, outgoing child who was curious about everything around him: worms, birds, and flowers, and he loved kites, stories of pirates, and futbol. A year later, she found out about Esther's affair with Raul and the imminent birth of little Patricia. She had been very hurt and incredibly angry. But as the baby's birth came closer and closer, she found herself caring about the unexpected child. Their family grew when the three parents made the decision to have another child because Patricia needed a perfect donor for a bone marrow transplant. Although she had given birth to Pedro, and Esther had had Patricia and Paula, they were never thought of separately by either mother. Even after splitting up and moving apart, she and Esther were in agreement that both were responsible for all three children; and all three kids were equally loved. Maca believed that their children contributed to the reconciliation that was occurring. Esther had a strong belief in 'family' and didn't have a problem maintaining their family ties even after their divorce; she even included Raul and Vero as extensions of that family. As long as Maca was 'family' she had been able to keep the lines of communication open with Esther and eventually began winning her back.

Roberto returned with a cart stacked with Maca's luggage and led her through a maze of corridors to the loading area where his black limousine was waiting for them. The heir of renowned winemakers, Maca regularly attended events with guests such as Spanish royalty, movie stars, well-known fashion designers, and illustrious artists. So the gorgeous doctor was unperturbed by the crowd that had gathered around the car and nonchalantly entered the pristine vehicle as the travelers strained for a better look to see if she was a recognizable actress.

After leaving the airport, Roberto drove the limousine north through the city on Interstate 85 toward the hospital. She was amazed at how much had changed since her last visit back in 1978. The large complexes of condominiums, the tall office buildings, the bright neon signs that loomed over the highway were a sharp contrast to the Atlanta she remembered 30 years ago. Even the highway, in some places 14 lanes wide, was so much larger than the road she remembered. She shook her head and laughed at herself when she realized that she had expected it to look the same. It now occurred to her that as greater-Madrid had grown to over 5 million people, so had greater-Atlanta, and at 4:00 o'clock on a Monday, it seemed that most of them were on the interstate at the same time as she was.

"Pardona, señorita, would you like to go to your hotel to relax or to the hospital first?" Roberto asked with a charming smile.

She wondered if he was flirting or hinting at other services he might provide. She studied him a moment. He was about six feet tall, wavy black hair, dark skinned, laughing brown eyes, and straight white teeth. He was slim and it appeared that he worked out; and probably got lots of requests for services outside of the limousine. He reminded Maca of her brother, who was coincidently also named Roberto. Like her brother he probably used his good looks and charm to get and keep happy, satisfied customers.

The young chauffer raised his eyebrows when he noticed her staring, and although she preferred women over men, she blushed when she wondered what he might be thinking. Trying to compose herself, she returned his smile. "Señora," she corrected him. "Actually, perhaps you can help me with something."

"I am at your service, señora." He gave her a little nod.

"When I came here as a child we stayed in a white house with tall columns in front and a 'porche' that wrapped around the house. It had a tall, black iron gate in front and it had a grand staircase in the 'vestibulo' of the house like they use in the...como se dice 'peliculas'?" she couldn't remember the English word.

"Movies, señora?"

"Si, movies."

"Señora, there are many houses like that in Atlanta. Do you remember the street or what part of the city you were in?"

"No. We were always driven there and once we were there, we didn't have to go anywhere else. It had everything we needed." She forced herself to remember the estate and anything significant about it. She thought for a few minutes while Roberto drove the car north towards Emory University. "Caballos!" Maca shouted. "Horses!"

"Que, señora?" he looked in the mirror back to her.

"It had Andalusian horses and a big white stable. I learned to ride there. And there were a pair of bronze horses at the front gate."

"Aldalusians? Hmm." Roberto thought for a moment. "Ah, si, I know the place. You would like to go there?"

"Si, if it is not too much trouble," Maca replied.

"Vale," replied the smiling driver. As her attention was drawn to a neon sign that advertised that the next Braves baseball game was this coming Thursday, Maca missed the unusually pleased look that passed across the driver's face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two – Rancho Lucia**

The black limousine didn't turn into the driveway; it just stopped on the street. Maca pressed the button on the armrest and the tinted window lowered to reveal a sunny afternoon in a neighborhood that rivaled the photos she had seen of Beverly Hills. French stone chateaux, Federal, Gothic and Greek-revival antebellum mansions were surrounded by brick and iron fences, wide manicured lawns, and hand-clipped bushes. April in Atlanta brought out the flowers: yellow daffodils; pink, red and white azaleas, purple irises, a rainbow of roses, lavender crepe myrtle, white dogwood and Bradford pear blossoms, even the long-stemmed monkey grass that lined the walkways sprouted a pompom of purple flowers. The neighborhood was awash in Gauguin's paint.

Maca stepped out of the car and let the bright sun warm her face. The driveway was at the farthest end of a long, wide cul-de-sac. She walked down the drive a few feet and stopped to examine one of the great bronze horses that guarded the gate. She and her father shared a love for horses. In fact, that love of horses is what had brought them here many years ago. The house had belonged to one of her father's friends, and he had brought her with him on several occasions and she fell in love with the house, the lake, and the Andalusians, but she especially liked these two bronze horses. They weren't identical. They were replicas of the original Andalusians brought here from Spain by the owner. She reached up to pat a bronze nose and almost expected the horse to nuzzle her hand when she touched it.

She took a moment to look back at the driver, who was busy texting on his cell phone, and then she wandered toward the wrought iron gate. A shield with the emblem of a horse and the letter L was mounted on each door. Above the gate, the sign read "Rancho Lucia." Maca walked closer and peered between the iron bars at the landscape beyond. Unlike the newer, smaller estate homes that lined the street, Rancho Lucia, which had been here for nearly forty years, extended well beyond the iron gate. The long, tree-lined drive was covered in flagstone and it lead to an elegant white house with a wide veranda that wrapped around it. All of it was just as Maca remembered it. Peaking around the left side of the house were the stables where the Spanish horses were bred, trained and traded, and Maca knew that to the right of the house was a beautiful lake where her father taught her to swim and sail. All of it looked exactly as it had thirty years ago. Her hands on the bars, her head leaning through, the doctor basked in the warm sun, the scent of the beautiful flowering landscape, and sweet birdsong.

All of a sudden, two very large dogs jumped on the gate and startled the tall doctor. She jumped back, tripped on the flagstone and landed hard on the driveway. The chauffer and the caretaker both came running to her rescue, one trying to keep her seated until he was certain she was alright, and the other trying to help her stand.

"Oh miss, are you alright! Romulus! Remus! Sit! Stay! Miss, please don't move. Sit. Stay. Please. Are you hurt anywhere?" the caretaker questioned as he kept trying to push her by the shoulders back onto the driveway.

"Señora! Are you alright? Here, let me help you up," Roberto offered as he took her hands and tried to pull her up. But the caretaker would push her back down and she would land with a thud on her butt again and again.

Finally, she waved off Roberto's assistance and stayed seated long enough for the caretaker to quit pushing her down.

"Señors, I am okay," the doctor said in careful English so that the caretaker could understand her. "I am not hurt…much. I would like to stand up now," Maca insisted firmly.

"Si, señora." "Yes, ma'am." And at the same time, Roberto pulled, and the caretaker lifted her and she practically went flying into Roberto's arms.

"Oh, pardona, señora," said the blushing chauffer.

As Maca brushed herself off, she tried to calm the two men. "I'm fine, señors, gracias. The landing was a little hard but there is no permanent damage."

"Are you certain, ma'am? Perhaps I should call the doctor to make sure." The old caretaker seemed to be more shaken than Maca.

"Yo soy medico, señor," and then she had to remind herself that she was in Georgia. "I am a doctor. I am fine. Really," she reassured him.

"Well, at least come back to the house, please, and let me offer you some tea for your discomfort?" the older man brushed his gray hair back with a shaking hand.

She was excited about seeing the house again and reliving the memories it held. She was also concerned about the older man and wanted to ease his fears. She looked at Roberto and asked, "Do you have time? I am not expected at the hospital until tomorrow, but you may have plans."

"It is okay, doctora. While you are in Atlanta, I am yours to use. Please take all the time you like. Shall I drive you both to the house?"

Maca looked around at the beautiful trees and felt the warm sun. "If it is okay, I would like to walk?"

"Splendid!" the caretaker clapped his hands. "Remus! Romulus! Home!" and the dogs ran down the driveway ahead of them. "Roberto, why don't you bring the car up to the house and join us?"

"Claro," Maca answered for him. "Of course he can join us. Thank you, señor." She was getting better at thinking in English but nearly every sentence seemed to come out in Spanglish.

"Señor! Ha! That sounds mighty proper," the caretaker winked at her the way older people will sometimes, like they are sharing a secret with you. "I'm John," the caretaker introduced himself and stuck his hand out. "Welcome to Rancho Lucia."

"Nice to meet you, John. I'm Maca, Maca Fernandez," the doctor took the proffered hand and shook it firmly.

"Nice to meet you, Doctor Fernandez. Shall we?" and the older, southern gentleman led them down the beautiful flagstone driveway lined with tall pecan trees while Roberto retrieved his limousine.

As the doctor and the caretaker walked down the driveway, the brown dogs chased each other in circles; they chased a squirrel up a tree, came back to John, and with a wave, ran back towards the house.

"John?"

"Yes, Doctor Fernandez?"

"Call me Maca, please. Those are the largest dogs I have ever seen. What kind are they?"

"Ah, miss, those are Rhodesian Ridgebacks. 100 pounds of pure muscle," the caretaker replied proudly.

"Yes, I can see that. Have you replaced the horses with the dogs? They are nearly as big," she teased.

"Actually, we had to keep some of the horses just so that we could exercise the dogs. You know that they can run over twenty miles a day if necessary."

"I believe that. They are quite beautiful. I was _surprised_ at the gate but they didn't bark or bite me. They must be well trained."

"They are a smart breed, and very loyal and very protective of their family so you have to show them who's in charge. Remus nearly bit a man one time, but only because he was beating Romulus with a stick. Mr. Monroe was given a pair when he was an ambassador in South Africa. These are the fifth generation from that original pair."

"Will Mr. Monroe be joining us?" Maca inquired. "I would very much like to see him."

"Sorry, miss, but Mr. Monroe died back in 1988. His sister, Mrs. Emily," with his southern drawl it sounded like Miz Emlee to Maca, "lives here now and has turned the main home into a Bed and Breakfast to keep herself busy. You're just in time. She makes fresh sugar cookies every afternoon and has the best sweet tea south of the Mason Dixon line."

"That sounds wonderful," Maca replied. Maca recalled from her childhood that sweet tea and whiskey seemed to be in endless supply in Georgia.

Miss Emily and Roberto were on the porch waiting for them. Emily wore a pink shirt with small flowers on the collar and a tan skirt, her blond hair was mixed with white, and she had bright blue eyes. Smiling and waving, Emily looked shockingly like Maca's mother only older, around her father's age of 68.

Maca's father, Pedro Wilson, had married Rosario Fernandez a woman ten years his junior after he was introduced to her at a dinner party. During the conversation at the table, they found that they shared a love of Democracy, wine and opera. He immediately invited her to his vineyard and a month later proposed. Maca had four brothers but the couple adored their little girl most of all. Maca had a special relationship with her father and she accompanied him on many of his business trips until her mother insisted she attend school.

Roberto was smiling, a tall glass of iced tea in one hand and a sugar cookie in the other. Emily was smiling, John was smiling, and even the dogs languishing in the shade of the porch seemed to be smiling. Maca had to smile. The day was turning out to be much better than she had expected when she left Spain this morning.

Emily took the doctor by the hand and guided her inside. "Come on inside, my dear, and let's get you some tea. You must be exhausted from that walk. It _is_ beautiful this time of year. I'm glad the irises decided to show up on time. The white ones can be so stubborn." Maca tried to follow the distinguished woman's stream of thought but most of it seemed to run together.

They passed through the threshold and it was as if Maca had stepped thirty years back in time. The foyer looked exactly as it had when she was a little girl and still smelled like wood polish. The tapestry brought back from India still hung on the wall; the knight's armor still guarded the doorway into the library; and the staircase in the center still captured your imagination with visions of "Gone with the Wind."

The matron always watched as new visitors entered the foyer to see what most charmed them. Many liked the glittering, crystal chandelier, others liked the armor and were amazed to find out that the five-foot armor was once worn by a real French knight, and some fell in love with the tapestry's colorful display of stampeding horses. Film buffs easily recognized the staircase and regularly some woman would be scooped up and carried up the stairs. Maca was fascinated with all of it, but she had a fondness for the staircase.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Emily inquired.

"Yes. It looks exactly like I remember it." She answered dreamily as her mind was transported back in time.

"Oh? You've been here before? I'm sorry; I usually remember my guests and it would be hard to forget you. When did you stay with us?" _This Spanish woman would have made an impression on everyone in the house_ , the matron thought to herself.

"My father brought me here when I was a little girl; about thirty years ago."

"That was when my brother was still alive and lived here. What's your father's name?"

"Pedro Wilson."

"Pedro Wilson? Hmm." Emily tried to recall the name. "Pedro? Don Pedro? Don Pedro is your father?" Maca nodded. "What a small world it is." She was beginning to wonder if the arrival of the woman in front of her was coincidence or kismet. "I thought John introduced you as Maca Fernandez. Is Fernandez your married name?"

"No, es mi madre's. I use it professionally since the Wilson name is so well-known in España. My father's vineyard is very successful and when people find out that I'm a Wilson, they make many assumptions about me. I would rather they see me for who I am instead. My full name is Macarena Fernandez-Wilson. I _was_ married but we kept our own names." Maca gave herself a mental kick; now she felt like she was the one rambling.

Emily continued into the study. "Please come in and you will have to tell me about your visits. Macarena Fernandez-Wilson," Emily repeated thoughtfully. "I love how the Latin use three generations to name a child," she said to herself offhandedly.

Maca wasn't sure if she should be insulted by the stereotype but she couldn't really argue the point since she was named after her grandmother Macarena. She even named her own son after her father. Now, she was glad that Esther had not been so traditional and had chosen new names for their daughters.

"Here, let's sit for a while and sip our tea. You can tell me about Don Pedro. How is he these days?" Emily handed Maca a tall glass and a perfectly round sugar cookie sprinkled with colored sugar granules. The crumbly sweetness of the cookie was followed perfectly by the rich, cold, sweet tea.

"He has some heart problems, but he is doing better now. My mother makes sure that he takes his medicine every day so I do not have to worry as much."

"Ah, Rosario," remembered Emily. "How is she? Is she still as beautiful?"

Maca smiled proudly. "Yes, she is. Did you know her well?"

"Not really. I only met her once when my husband George and I visited my brother Martin in Spain; but Martin spoke of them both often. She and Don Pedro came for his funeral in '88. Did you know that your father and my brother had been friends for most of their lives? Your father took Martin's death very hard. Your mother was very supportive and comforting."

"Yes, she still is. They love each other very much. But they don't talk about the past. I don't really know much about their younger lives."

"Well, why don't you stay for dinner and I will tell you how Martin and Don Pedro met."

"That sounds wonderful and I do not think it would be a problem," said Maca. "Let me just check with Roberto." Maca found Roberto on the porch with several other gentlemen enjoying the warm evening. He had removed his hat and was leaning against one of the tall white columns smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. He came to attention when she appeared in the doorway. "Roberto, we have been invited for dinner. Can you stay or do you have other plans?"

"No, señora, I am at your service while you are in Atlanta." He gave her his signature bow. "Just let me know when you would like to go to the hotel. I'll contact them now and tell them at you are here but will check in rather late."

"Bueno, vale," Maca smiled at the charming chauffer. "Muchas gracias, Roberto."

"I am at your service, señora." With one last bow, Roberto went to the limousine to get his cell phone and contact the hotel.

"He's so charming," Emily stated from behind the doctor. "I think all Latin men have great charisma. I bet your husband is very charming." she winked mischievously at the doctor as they walked back into the library.

Maca helped the older woman back into her plush chair. "My wife… my ex-wife," Maca stammered as she corrected herself, "whom I am dating… esto es muy complicado… is very charming and _very_ jealous. I have been instructed not to look at anyone the entire trip."

"Oh, brava!" Emily clapped her hands. "Good for you; a wife! How did your father take that?"

Maca looked shocked. "What a scandal I was! I called off my wedding to the man they chose for me a week before the ceremony." Maca laughed and shook her head in dismay. "In the beginning, Papa was worried that Esther wanted me for my money." She didn't bring up that her parents were also worried that Maca's sexuality would affect the family business. That still hurt too much. "Esther reassured him that that was not the case and now he loves her very much. He also loves our children and is a fantastic abuelo…um…grandfather."

"Wonderful! It is nice to know that Don Pedro has grandchildren. Boys? Girls?"

"One boy, Pedro, we call him Pedrito. He is almost five years old. Then there is Patricia, she is three. I think she will be an academic; she's very quiet and already loves to read. And the littlest angel, Paula, is two."

"Oh, all of them so young; they are wonderful at that age but they must be a handful?"

Maca nodded and smiled. "It is not so bad right now. Pedrito is in school, and Patricia and Paula have a nanny when we have to work. They also spend lots of time with Esther's aunt and my parents. I sometimes think my mother wishes she had more children. She really likes babies."

"Did you bring pictures?"

"Yes, in my wallet," Maca answered but then explained that it was in her backpack, which was in the limousine. "I also have many pictures on my laptop."

"Then, when you get settled, you will have to show off your children." The matron slapped her knees and stood up. "Now I have to check on dinner."

"It smells wonderful. I didn't realize that I was so hungry. May I help?" Maca offered.

"Aren't you sweet! Let's see if Annie needs any help."

The two tall women went to the kitchen and Maca was introduced to Annie. Annie had been an award-winning chef with a small restaurant in Stone Mountain, Georgia. Emily had eaten at Annie's restaurant and immediately offered her a job as the chef of the estate's B&B, and a home for her and her two teenage sons. To the surprise of many of Annie's friends, she accepted, moved in immediately, and was still there after eight years.

Annie Jackson had been born and raised in rural Georgia. Her father had been the pastor of a Second Baptist Church and worked at a paper mill during the week. Annie loved the burned wood smell his clothes always had; and whenever she went back home, the smell that constantly permeated the area brought back fond memories of her father. Her mother stayed at home and raised their six children and managed their small farm. She grew or raised nearly everything their family ate, sewed what they wore, and taught them how to read and write. After high school, Annie got a job in the cafeteria at the paper mill and decided she wanted to become a chef. Her daddy always tried to give his children the best he could afford, so he borrowed from his pension plan and sent her to the Cordon Bleu Academy in Paris. She had spent many years working in Europe at some of the best restaurants in the world, but when her father died, Annie decided to come home and open a restaurant just outside of Atlanta so she could be near her mother. She had two sons but never talked about their father. Annie and her sons enjoyed the quiet life at Rancho Lucia. But occasionally late at night, a boarder with insomnia might hear an old French record playing on her stereo.

Annie cooked and helped with the morning cleaning, Annie's oldest son Ralph managed the stables and horses, and her youngest son, Abraham, helped John take care of the grounds. Miss Emily was a fastidious business manager, Annie was a master chef, and the boarded horses and human renters paid well for the exceptional care they received.

After a moment in the kitchen smelling all the wonderful smells, Annie shooed them out. "Well, dear, since we can't help here," said Emily as she looked back at Annie with a smile and got a wink in return. "Would you like to freshen up? You've got plenty of time. I'll call you when we are ready."

Emily directed her to the bathroom on the second floor and Maca worked her way up the splendid staircase but stopped for a moment near the top. A smile formed on the beautiful face as she remembered Señor Martin. Whenever they came to Atlanta, she would run at Señor Martin and jump into his arms. Then he would spin her around and around until she giggled uncontrollably. Then he would put her down and give her some small, special gift like an ivory hair comb; a small, red silk purse with a bronze Chinese coin inside; or a piece of black obsidian carved into the shape of a whale no bigger than her thumb. In the evenings after she had been sent to bed, she would sneak down in her pajamas and slippers and sit on the stairs just watching the two men smoke cigars, drink whiskey and talk about the horses they imported while they played chess. The third stair was just low enough to see them through the wide opening but high enough so that she could not be seen. Standing there looking into the library, she could almost smell the cigars.

The bathroom was clean and brightly lit. It was decorated in blue and white tiles and had a long, white marble counter with his-and-her sinks. Big mirrors were mounted behind each sink and a pewter sconce mounted between the mirrors had a bouquet of beautiful dried flowers and eucalyptus that gave a fresh scent to the room. On the counter between the sinks she found a basket filled with wonderful smelling soaps, small containers of shampoo and lotion, several new toothbrushes and small tubes of Crest toothpaste. Thick white towels were stacked on a shelf and they smelled as if they had just been removed from the dryer.

Maca locked the door and just stared at herself in the mirror. She was realizing how excited she was that she was in this house. This was a place filled with memories of an innocent childhood. Horseback riding, sailing in the lake, long walks with her father, evenings when her father and Senor Martin sat in the grand library, smoking, playing chess and discussing horses or politics while she watched from the third step when she should have been asleep: these were the happiest memories of her childhood. But the memories of her visits to Atlanta led full-circle back to boarding school in Spain and eventually to bittersweet memories of a time when she was changing from a child to a young woman and the beginning of the woman she is today.

She removed her jacket and shirt and hung them on a chrome hook on the back of the door. She turned on the water in the left sink and adjusted it until it was just the right temperature. She picked a purple soap that smelled lightly of summer lilacs, and with a thick, white washcloth washed her face, arms and torso. She smoothed her long, brown hair with her fingers. She actually felt refreshed and was glad for the opportunity to collect her composure. She and then returned to the library. She found several other boarders reading or talking while they were waiting for dinner. Emily and John were deep into a game of chess. Not wanting to disturb them, she wandered out to the porch and found an empty rocking chair to watch the sun set.

"Maca?" Emily touched her arm lightly. "Maca, it's time for dinner." The doctor awoke with the older woman leaning over her with a gentle smile. "You must have had a long day. Come in and eat and then we'll get Roberto to take you to your hotel."

Maca rubbed her cheeks trying to wake up and brushed her fingers through her hair. She joined several boarders and the live-in staff for an elegant but casual dinner in the grand dining room. The long wooden table was covered with a white linen tablecloth. A dark red runner spanned the length of the table and glowing white candles in brass candleholders were spaced evenly along the runner. Pitchers of water and tea were placed between the candles so that each diner could help themselves to whichever drink they preferred. White china plates and bowls with crisply folded napkins and silverware were at each place setting. Dinner was served from a heated buffet that ran along the wall and included roasted chicken, fresh catfish from their lake, roasted red potatoes, green beans, fried okra, and half-ears of corn on the cob. As Maca's seat was pointed out and she was handed a plate, Miss Annie brought out several baskets of hot, fresh rolls that were greeted with 'oohs' and 'aahs' by the appreciative diners. The baskets were passed around the table family-style and the gentleman in the seat next to Maca kindly left a roll on her bread plate while she loaded the plate in her hand.

Maca took a little bit of each dish and returned to her seat. Her neighbor to her left she learned was a traveling salesman from Idaho. He worked for Acer computers and was negotiating contracts with several universities in the city. He was certain that if one went through, the others would follow. To her right was a newlywed couple. He was a movie buff and had heard about the grand staircase and wanted to reenact the dramatic scene from "Gone with the Wind" with his bride. He made it about two-thirds of the way up before he got winded and his wife, in a fit of laughter, insisted he put her down before they both tumbled to the bottom. They hadn't spoken in three days. Other boarders included a bow-tied gentleman in his late 50's that had moved in after his wife passed away from breast cancer, two women in their late 30's who spent the evening whispering to each other and occasionally looking at Maca and smiling, and a proud couple with their teenage son who was thinking of attending Georgia Tech University to pursue an engineering degree. He was interested in developing cars that ran on hydrogen gas instead of fossil fuels. In addition to the boarders, Annie, her sons, and John the groundskeeper shared the meal at the grand table with Maca and Roberto.

Maca introduced herself and explained that she was in Atlanta for a one-month fellowship at Emory. She was going to spend the month with other pediatricians at the Eggleston Children's Hospital sharing trauma practices for pediatric patients and to discuss a heart transplant her staff performed on a boy with Downs' Syndrome, only the second to be performed in the world. Not one to spend a lot of time talking about herself, Maca reminded Emily that she promised to tell the story of how her father met Emily's brother. As dinner plates were cleared, coffee poured and slices of warm pecan pie were passed around the table, Emily smiled, leaned her elbows on the table and began to weave the story of the junior US ambassador, the boy from Jerez and a runaway Andalusian horse.

Maca was enamored with the story of how her father and Señor Martin had met. And when Emily stepped away and returned with an old black-and-white photograph of the two young men proudly holding the horse between them and gave the photograph to Maca, the normally composed doctor teared up and hugged the older woman firmly. The matron, feeling that Maca's relationship to Don Pedro and her brother somehow made her family, returned the hug with as much vigor. As they parted from their hug, Maca suddenly yawned and, embarrassed, covered her face. Emily laughed and reassured Maca that no insult was taken. Taking charge, Emily gave Maca another piece of the pecan pie wrapped in plastic wrap, had Roberto bring the car around, and personally loaded Maca into the comfortable rear seat. Maca lowered the tinted window to wave goodbye to the tall matron. Emily took Maca's hand and made her promise to visit again, which Maca did willingly.

As the car started to slowly pull from the house, Maca was distracted by her ringing cell phone and did not hear Miss Emily say that Maca would probably run into her niece, a pediatric cardiologist who also worked at the Eggleston Children's Hospital. Had she heard Emily say that she was going to be working with Dr. Martine Monroe for the next month, Maca might have changed her mind about the whole trip and left that night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three – Esther Calls**

The limousine left Rancho Lucia and quietly headed back towards Atlanta. The university had a wonderful hotel near campus that they used to house visiting professors and guests like Maca. Roberto quietly navigated the long black car towards Maca's home away from home while Maca answered her cell phone.

"Hola, Maca, Yo…Yo solamente…" the voice on the phone cracked. "Um, pardona, yo quiero…" Maca could hear Esther sniffle, "Mierda, Soy tonto…"

"You are not silly," Maca softly corrected her ex-wife.

As Esther spoke in Spanish, Maca tried to translate everything in English so she could get more practice. "…it is just that this is the first time since Pedrito was born that you were not here when I came to work. I could always see you in surgery, or in the 'curtains', or in the cafeteria. But even though I know you are not here tonight, I wander the halls looking for you. I sat in your office and kept expecting you to come in to discuss the pharmacy report. I even checked the linen closet but you are not in here; **_I am in here_** , waiting for you, and I realized how much I miss you and how much I love you."

Maca smiled through tears she didn't realized she was crying at the thought of the Director of Nurses sitting in a linen closet, a favorite meeting spot of theirs, waiting for her. She wrapped her free arm around herself to try to hold in her tears. She could hear someone knocking on the closet door. "You know that the closet is never private, Cariño," she said to the head nurse.

 _"Uno minuto, por favor!"_ Esther shouted to the door. "Lo siento, Maca. I don't know why we keep coming in here? There is never any privacy." Maca laughed.

Another knock on the door. " _I will be out in a minute!_ Mita, Maca, I have to go soon. I just wanted to tell you that I miss you. I want to kiss you all over, I want to feel your hands on my body the way you did last night. Ufff, this is going to be a long month…"

"Yes it will be," the doctor agreed.

"…and I am going to be very mean to everyone because I will be missing you very much." Maca smiled at the thought of the genial nurse on one of her rare tirades. "Come home soon; come home to me, por favor. Te quiero, mi amor." The intruder finally got tired of waiting and just entered the linen closet. _"Joder! I said I would be there in a minute!"_

Maca could here Alicia's soft voice in the background. _"Lo siento, Esther, but it is Waldo. Javier needs you in the box right away."_

 _"Vale. I am coming."_ Esther turned her attention back to the phone. "Maca, I have to go. Call me when you can. Te quiero. Besos, mi amor."

"Te quiero tambien," Maca whispered in the dark and closed the cell phone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four – Walls Come Tumbling Down**

It was midday Tuesday and Maca sat alone at the cafeteria table drinking orange juice from a tall plastic cup and nibbling on a banana nut muffin. The morning had been a rush of activity and they had finally found a minute to stop for a short break. After Roberto had dropped her at the emergency door of Eggleston Children's Hospital, she met with the ER Director James Belter, and had a brief interview with the Hospital CEO, Dr. Barbara Stahl. They went back to the ER where she and James spent the rest of the morning walking around the department, getting to know several of the doctors and nurses, and discussing the plans for her lectures, speaking engagements, and a dinner where she and several other doctors would be recognized for their achievements in emergency pediatrics. She was feeling overwhelmed with the adulation and wondered if it was too late to cancel the lectures and return to Madrid.

James joined her at the table and noticed how little she was eating. "That must be why Spanish women always look like models," he offered. Maca smiled but wasn't sure how to respond.

"No, they just grow them that way naturally," said a silky voice with a Creole accent behind her that sounded oddly familiar. "Give her a week with you and she'll be eating hotdogs from the corner vendor."

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it. Vinnie's got the best kraut south of Chicago," he argued jovially. "Maca, I'd like to introduce you to your tour guide for the month, Dr. Martine Monroe, cardiologist."

Maca rose from her seat, turning slowly to face the woman behind her, and lost her bearings and her breath. She had to reach back for the table to steady herself as the doctors reached out to help her. "Whoa, easy there, we can't have the doctors passing out after they've eaten the food. It doesn't set a good example for the kiddies," the tall woman joked with a wide grin.

Maca's knees were about to buckle and she began to shake. She put her hands on the back of the chair and on the table to get her balance, gave up and dropped into the plastic chair with a thud.

The tall woman knelt down beside her. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shock you," she whispered. "Seriously, are you going to be okay? Here, drink this." She handed Maca her orange juice and the pediatrician drank it in one long gulp, peering over the top of the cup at the unexpected woman beside her.

"You always have this effect on women," the ER director teased. "It's your eyes; it gets 'em every time."

It **was** her eyes and they all knew it. Maca looked up and was captured by them, destroyed by them, and then when the face smiled at her and those eyes twinkled, she was reborn by them.

Dr. Martine Monroe stood slightly taller than Maca, had thick raven hair that she wore in long waves around her shoulders, was thin, though not as thin as Maca. Growing up in Louisiana, she learned to love the outdoors from a very early age and loved basking in the sun. She usually wore a beautiful copper tan from head to toe. She felt it necessary to exercise regularly and preferred swimming and roller-skating to many other sports. But the most striking feature that seized everyone who met Martine was her eyes. They were the color of emeralds. Most people expected dark eyes, or blue eyes, but the green surprised everyone because they were so bright. And when the light hit them just right, they would sparkle with flecks of gold, as they were doing now.

"Hush, Jimmy. She'll think I'm some kind of Casanova," the cardiologist winked one of those green eyes at him.

"That would mean that you would have to actually like them. But we all know that no one is good enough for Dr. Monroe." He turned his attention to the pale doctor sitting at the table. "I'm going to get you some soup; it's vegetable beef today. Do you eat meat, Dr. Fernandez?" Maca nodded automatically at the question addressed to her. "Good, I'll be right back. Marty, see if you can snap her out of it; she's scaring the parents."

Maca, ever conscious of how people perceived her even if she wasn't usually influenced by them, scanned the room. Most people were eating quietly with their families, some seemed to have received good news and were talking excitedly, and one stunned couple with a little boy about Pedrito's age was just huddled together holding him.

"Maca, are you alright? I'm sorry if I upset you."

"Que…? Como…? Wh-where…?" Maca couldn't put any of her thoughts into coherent questions. She was hardly able to breath and her hands still shook. Everything and everyone in the room dropped out of focus except the worried face in front of her. And when the raven-haired doctor picked up Maca's trembling hands from her lap and wrapped them in her own long, cool fingers, a jolt went from Maca's hands throughout her body.

"Shh. We'll talk, I promise. Just please calm down." Martine was genuinely worried about the thin, pale doctor. "Look, Maca, I'm sorry I upset you. Do you want me to leave?"

In the nanosecond that Maca took to ponder that option, she only got more ill and fretful. If she had heard the name yesterday, she would have let out a string of Spanish profanities, cursed the ground below Martine's feet and shouted that she never wanted to see that woman. But at this moment, _that_ woman was kneeling before her with the familiar look in those florescent eyes, and Maca couldn't let her get away – again. Maca's hands quickly moved so that they were sandwiching Martine's hands and crushing her long fingers. And even though she still had trouble speaking, she was able to shake her head a definitive _"No."_

"Okay, okay, I won't go. Are you ill?"

Another shake of the chestnut covered head, _"No."_

The ER Director returned with a steaming tray of food. "Marty, here, sit in a chair, for god's sake. You've got to be killing your knees." He pulled a chair toward her. Martine rose from the floor and sat in the chair but kept it so close to Maca that their knees formed one lap for their interlaced hands. "Marty, see if you can get her to eat. I've got a meeting with the nurses. Are you going to be okay, Dr. Fernandez?" he put a worried hand on her shoulder.

Maca looked into the older doctor's kind, grey eyes. "Si, gracias. Lo siento. I am sorry to cause you so much trouble."

"It's no trouble, my dear. Just take care of yourself, okay?" His head tilted questioningly.

Maca nodded and smiled at him. "I will. Gracias."

"Good." He turned his attention to his younger colleague and saw the effect that the Spanish doctor was having on his young friend. "You got this, Marty?"

Martine nodded, unable to take her eyes off her trembling patient. "We'll be fine. Thanks Jimmy." She finally turned to look at him and he immediately realized that something had changed.

Martine was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and was often approached by both men and women for romance. But Martine always remained detached and her relationships seldom lasted for more than a few months. Within medical circles, she was also well-known for her ability to make bold decisions and daring surgical procedures with a cool head, which made her an exceptional cardiologist. The older doctor had stepped in when Martine's father died and had guided her schooling and her career for the last twenty years. He thought he knew all of her moods and all of her looks, but this was a new look, one he would never forget because it was the first time he had ever seen it. His protégé was in love.

"Okay. I'll leave you two now. Dr. Fernandez, I'll see you tomorrow to introduce you to your students. Have a good afternoon and take care of yourself."

"Gracias, Dr. Belter." "Thanks, Jimmy," they replied in unison. He walked away worried for both of them.

Green eyes were locked on brown eyes. Maca trembled with emotion on the verge of overflowing. Activity continued all around them. The tray of food soon cooled. Maca's hands kept moving; feeling fingers, feeling palms, holding onto wrists and sliding up arms, then back to the hands. It seemed like Maca wanted to make sure that the figure before her was real before she released the flood of emotion and questions.

Martine knew that flood was coming for both of them. "Let's get out of here and go somewhere we can talk." Maca nodded. A kitchen worker came to take the tray as they stood up to leave. Martine smiled and thanked the young woman; Maca simply watched Martine. The two women walked from the cafeteria to the ER locker room silently. They retrieved their jackets, hung their white coats, and pulled out matching black leather backpacks. They looked at the bags and then at each other and smiled.

"You always liked leather," Maca said with a smile.

"Ah, she speaks," Martine teased and Maca smirked. "So did you."

Maca nodded and then scolded herself. _If I just keep nodding, I'm going to get whiplash. I've got to pull myself together._ "So, where are we going?"

"There's a park we can go to. It's very nice this time of year. I thought we'd go there."

"That sounds nice. I will call Roberto…" but Martine raised her hand to cut her off.

"Come with me," Martine requested putting her hand out. Maca nodded and took the offered hand. The two doctors walked like school girls, hand-in-hand, through the emergency room, out the door and to the doctors' parking lot. Maca laughed when they stopped in front of a black Yamaha Roadliner.

"Some things never change," Maca laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "That bike is perfecto."

"You're not afraid are you?" Martine challenged.

Maca took her wallet out of her backpack and flipped it open. She thumbed to a well-worn plastic sleeve with a photograph of herself and Pedrito on a black motorcycle and showed it to Martine. "Mmm. That's a nice ride. What is it?"

"It's a BMW R850. It is a few years old, but I love it."

"And who is that little fellow?" Martine smiled at the laughing boy who had Maca's eyes. "He's adorable."

"That is Pedro, my son; he was three in that picture. He found it in the garage one day and he wouldn't stop crying until I took him for a ride. I finally convinced Esther to let me take him around the block. He was smiling and clapping the whole time. He was fearless," Maca beamed proudly.

"He takes after his mother. You were never afraid of anything."

"I think only one thing…" but Maca couldn't finish the sentence without choking up. She looked down at her trembling hands. Martine put her hand on Maca's cheek and lifted her face, seeing tears welling in the brown eyes.

"What?" she paused, waiting for Maca to continue, but the pediatrician closed her eyes as the tears began to stream down her cheeks. "What are you afraid of, Cherie?" the green eyes pleaded for an answer using an endearment only ever used for Maca.

Maca wanted to run, to escape the flood of feelings that she was barely able to contain. The nickname brought back so many memories, so many feelings of joy and awakening desire, and feelings of despair and loss.

She took a step back and started to turn away but Martine put a hand on her arm, not forcefully but strongly enough to let Maca know that she wouldn't let her run away. The tears continued to fall and Maca covered her face as the stronger woman pulled her into an embrace.

Arms wrapped around Maca, rocking her from side to side, Martine tried to calm the shaking woman. After letting Maca struggle with her emotions for a moment, she finally asked the question again. "Tell me, Cherie, what is the one thing you are afraid of?" she whispered in Maca's ear.

"Never seeing you again." And the walls crashed and the tears rolled and Maca clung fiercely to the woman who had awakened her feelings of love and passion twenty years ago.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five – Piedmont Park**

Martine didn't know how long they stood there. Maca was in her arms for the first time in twenty years and time had stopped. Maca's sobs finally quieted and Martine handed her a handkerchief. As, she wiped the tears away, Maca looked into the bright green eyes and saw what she had always seen there – love, mischief, compassion – and now a little worry.

"I'm sorry," they said in unison.

"No, I'm sorry." Each echoed the other.

Martine stopped to let Maca speak but even though Maca tried, she couldn't verbalize all the thoughts and feelings coursing through her. She simply shook her head in disbelief that feelings that had been buried for so long could come back so quickly, so forcefully, so thoroughly. She reached up and touched the tanned face in front of her and then felt embarrassed and a little like she was betraying Esther. Perhaps the drive would help her clear her head. "You mentioned a park?"

"Yeah. Come on."

After dropping their backpacks into a locked box on the back of the motorcycle, Martine and Maca got on the bike and the cardiologist drove them away from Eggleston. Wanting to give them each a little time to get their emotions under control, she took an unusual route through the beautiful Virginia Highlands area of Atlanta with its dogwood lined streets and tightly packed homes. Azaleas bloomed pink, red, and white. Restaurants, small boutiques and coffee houses were scattered here and there. Dog walkers and joggers shared the sidewalks amiably with coffee sippers and shoppers. Martine tried not to notice the hands that had been on her shoulders had slid down her back and were lightly resting on her hips. Then they drove down Ponce de Leon and made their way to Piedmont Avenue. Once on Piedmont, Martine turned her black motorcycle toward the center of Atlanta, past antique shops, clothing boutiques, Mexican restaurants, and biker bars.

During a particularly sharp curve, Maca's hands slid across Martine's athletic stomach and hugged her body to maintain their balance. She kept her arms around the firm waist for the rest of the trip. Martine had to remind herself to breathe.

Martine turned right as Piedmont became a one-way street and circled around the hotels and high-rise apartments and re-approached Piedmont Park from the opposite direction. Martine was proud of the city that had become her home. The day had turned out to have a cloudless blue sky, and the trees that lined Piedmont were filled with white blossoms or bright green leaves. The buildings seemed to stand taller, and the cars seemed to all be sent from Lexus, Mercedes and BMW just to show Maca how prosperous and beautiful the South could be.

They parked the motorcycle in front of one of those proud, high-rise apartment buildings across from Piedmont Park and just sat for a moment looking at the greenery surrounding them, the pediatrician's arms around the cardiologist's waist, neither wanting to move. Maca could feel Martine's heart pounding beneath her leather jacket, skip a beat, and then pound again. She wondered if Martine could feel her heart beating just as hard.

Maca noticed that a couple passing by had turned to look at them and she realized that they couldn't stay seated on the bike all day so she gave the woman in front of her a tight hug. Martine's hands clasped Maca's and she leaned back into the hug. Had she been a poet instead of a cardiologist she would have sworn that her heart would beat its way out of her body and live forever just on the memory of this day. But she knew that _this_ heart was a gift and that it gave her a chance for happiness, finally.

Martine set the kickstand and slid off the front seat. She took Maca's hand and steadied her as the tall woman stood and threw a long leg over the bike. They let go of each other's hands only long enough to remove their helmets, re-clasp the chin straps and grab a small blue blanket out of the saddlebag. They walked hand-in-hand, their helmets like flower baskets, across the busy street and into the green park.

They crossed a stone bridge that stretched across the pond and stopped to watch a family of ducks glide across the still waters. They passed the boat house and meandered toward the wide field where a group of men were playing soccer and a young couple was throwing a Frisbee back and forth. They found a leafy tree just off the path where they laid the blanket and sat for a while watching the soccer game. Maca sat with her back against the tree and her long legs stretched out in front of her. Martine sat cross-legged with her helmet in her lap.

After about fifteen minutes of silence, Martine realized that Maca was no longer watching the soccer but watching her. She turned away from the soccer players and faced Maca. When Maca didn't speak but simply continued to move her gaze from Martine to the field and back again, Martine decided to start the conversation.

"So, who is Esther?"

"Who?" Maca couldn't figure out how Martine knew that name.

"Esther. You mentioned her when you were talking about Pedro on your bike."

"Oh!" _Claro!_ "Ella es mi mujer. She's my wife…my ex-wife…we are dating. It is a long story."

The sound of Maca's voice was like molasses; it was deeper than most women's voices and when she spoke Spanish, its tone danced like bees among flowers. Martine longed to hear her speak. "So tell me," she requested gently. "We've got time."

Maca looked out across the field trying to decide where to begin. In a Spanish-English mixture of words, she began with the story of how she and Esther met on her first day at Hospital Central, how they always seemed to be arguing until they discovered a shared passion for good food and great wine. Martine nodded, remembering that about Maca. Maca described how scared she was the first time she kissed the nurse. She was inviting Esther to her cabin in the Sierras and rubbing her neck. Then her desire for the nurse beat out her trepidation and she kissed the tender neck she had been rubbing. Esther practically ran out of the room. Her eyes glazed over with adoration as she remembered how Esther conquered her own fear and returned the kiss in the elevator a week later. She talked about their argument over having kids, Maca's proposal, their parents' reactions, the wedding, and then having Pedrito.

Maca stopped, not sure how to describe Esther's affair with Raul or her own affair with Vero. Martine noticed the hesitation and wondered why. "The bio you sent says you have three children. What about the other two?"

"Patricia and Paula." Maca said with pride mixed with a touch of melancholy.

"Did you have them with Esther as well?"

"No. Esther…" Maca couldn't believe that this was still hard to discuss. "Mierda. It is difficult to talk about."

Martine touched Maca's knee to reassure her. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. We can…"

"I want to. I want to tell you everything." Maca looked at her own hands folded in her lap, wanting to tell but not sure if she could. Martine moved closer to her and took her hands; heat seared Maca's skin and sent waves of warmth coursing through her body.

"What is it, Cherie? What happened?" She imagined all the bad things that could have happened to Esther that would have gotten her pregnant and made Maca sad.

"She had an affair."

 _Yes,_ Martine thought to herself, _that would be one of those things_.

Tears began to stream down Maca's cheeks. "After Pedrito was born, I went home to Jerez to spend time with my mother and father. While I was away, she had an affair with a friend, Raul. She became pregnant with Patricia. I did not know until Esther was in an accident and Cruz did not want to shoot x-rays. I wondered why; so I read her chart and it said she was pregnant. I felt so betrayed. I felt like she was leaving me like…" Maca looked into sad green eyes and the memory of the loss was too great. Emotion welled up in her chest and she couldn't speak.

Martine was beginning to understand the origin of Maca's feelings of abandonment. "Like when I left?" Maca nodded silently. "But then she had Paula?"

"Patricia was sick. We needed a bone marrow donor and neither Esther nor Raul was a good match. So I suggested that they have another child that could give Patricia matching bone marrow cells."

"That must have been a hard thing for you to suggest."

Maca shrugged. "I thought I could handle it but we just got more distant. That is when Vero came to work at the hospital."

Maca described the lively, blond psychiatrist and their subsequent affair, Esther's discovery, their final break-up and divorce, and her hot-and-cold relationship with Vero. She told Martine that she couldn't commit to Vero, she realized that she couldn't see spending her life with Vero the way she could, the way she still did, with Esther. But now Esther was dating both Bea and Maca. Sometimes Maca couldn't believe how much she had lost and what it would take to get it all back. "Ahora es muy complicado."

Martine laughed. "Yes, it certainly is, Cherie. So do you know what you want now?"

Maca answered hesitantly, surprised at the thoughts and feelings swirling around inside her, "I thought I did."

Maca looked into the green eyes, questioning, but before Martine could answer, a grass stained soccer ball landed between them. Martine picked up the ball and started to toss it to the apologetic men, but Maca stole it from her and ran toward the game. Martine followed at full speed. Maca punted the ball into the field of men and they amiably invited the two gorgeous women to join the game. One side offered to let the other have both women, something about two women being equal to one man, and they soon realized their mistake. It didn't take long for the two women to readjust to their old training from boarding school and after about fifteen minutes they charged the net using an old play of passing the ball back and forth, and with a dozen captivated men and one woman watching, Maca sent it flying past the goalie into the top left corner.

Now, anyone who has lived in the South long enough knows that sun showers are common but Maca had never experienced one. So she was quite surprised when it began to pour but the sun was still shining brightly and no clouds appeared in the sky. The men grabbed their discarded t-shirts and the soccer ball and headed for the nearest bar. Martine and Maca ran back to the blanket, grabbed their helmets and put the blanket over their heads and ran back towards the motorcycle. Despite the blanket, they were drenched by the time they reached the motorcycle.

But instead of climbing back on the bike, Martine grabbed Maca's hand and pulled her into the foyer of the high-rise apartment building. Wet shoes sliding on the marble floor, Martine had to grab the concierge's desk to keep from sliding onto her rear end. Maca grabbed her to try to steady her and she slipped instead, kicking Martine's feet out from under her. They ended up in a pile wrapped in the blue blanket in front of the desk with Sam, the concierge, looking curiously over his desk at them.

"Dr. Monroe? Is that you?" Giggles came from the blue blanket. "Are you alright?" The blue blanket rolled open to reveal the two doctors giggling like school girls, Maca's rear-end sore from yet another fall, and Martine's knee sore from banging it on the black and white marble floor. But neither felt the pain. "My god, Dr. Monroe! Are you alright?" Sam came from behind his desk and helped the two laughing women up off the floor.

"Yes, I'm fine Sam. Thanks." She took her keys from her jeans pocket and unclasped the motorcycle key. "Will you take care of Betty for me, please Sam?"

"Sure Dr. Monroe. No problem."

Martine took a step toward the elevator and a jolt of pain shot through her injured knee. Maca grabbed her and put Martine's arm over her shoulder. "Here, lean on me. Where are we going?"

"My apartment… On the 21st floor."

"Vale." Maca started toward the elevators along the back wall and then stopped abruptly; her internal translator finally catching up with what Martine said. "Your apartment? You mean you live here?"

"Yes." She started to head toward the elevator but Maca stood still. "Is there a problem?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were taking me to your apartment?"

"Well, I hadn't planned on taking you to my apartment, just the park. I go running in the park every morning and I thought it would be a good place just to sit and talk. Look, please come upstairs and get dried off. Then if you want to leave I won't stop you. Okay?"

"Vale." They continued to the elevator and when the doors open, Martine placed a round key into the keyhole next to the button for the 21st floor, turned the key and pressed the button. She removed the key and looked at Maca, who looked at her quizzically but didn't actually ask the question. Instead, they rode up silently, Maca in one corner and Martine in the other. When they reached the 21st floor and the doors quietly opened into the foyer of Martine's apartment, Martine tried to take another step, but again the pain nearly doubled her over. Maca grabbed her and helped her through the foyer and onto the tan leather couch. As she straightened and looked around, Maca immediately realized her mistake.

"I should have been a cardiologist." Maca examined the elegant apartment. The floor was made of warm, pale maple. A thickly-padded leather couch lined one wall and faced a wall of glass that looked out onto a terrace and the Atlanta skyline. Two matching chairs faced the couch. The floor, couch and chair were all a buttery, creamy tan that gave the room a neutral background. Against this pale softness, the red and gold throw pillows; red and gold Navaho rugs; the colorful collection of red, green and gold blocks that served as coffee table; the artwork scattered around the room; even the stone fireplace gave the modern-style room an inviting feel.

"What are you saying? You're great with kids! I can't imagine you doing anything else."

"This place is gorgeous. Is that a Picasso?" Maca walked over to the wall with the fireplace and looked at the print of The Dove. "An artist's proof." She nodded approvingly. "It's beautiful."

"Yes it is."

Maca turned to look at Martine not sure whether it was the painting or Maca she was commenting about. She was seeing Martine for the first time in her own world. "I never knew you liked art so much."

"I didn't really develop the taste until college. I was at Columbia and I spent my free time at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I took an Art History class as an elective and I was hooked. When I discovered that fine art was an investment, I began going to auctions and started buying and selling. I don't speculate any more, I just keep my favorite pieces." Martine's cell phone rang and she looked at the screen. "Have a look around, I have to take this."

Maca wandered around the living room and then into the kitchen. The pale wooden floor continued into the room and the cabinets were again the same color wood. The countertops were of thick brown granite sprinkled with flecks of gold mica. A blender, mixer and coffee pot on the counter near the sink were chili red. The larger appliances like the double-wide refrigerator, stove, dishwasher and microwave were all brushed chrome. On the center island was a grill and second stove, and above these hung a collection of pots and pans. Everything had a well-kept but worn look of having been used often but now a thin layer of dust covered the pots and appliances. This was a kitchen for someone who liked throwing parties but hadn't in a while.

Martine limped in after a few minutes shaking her cell phone. "That was Jimmy checking up on you." She walked over to one of the chrome sections in the center island, pulled it out like a drawer and peeked into it. "Do you want something to drink? I've got water, orange juice, Diet Coke, ginger ale, and beer."

Maca joined her at the counter. "I've never seen a refrigerator that pulled out of the counter like that. I'll have some water please."

Martine handed her a blue bottle. "Well, it cuts down on the electric costs of opening _that_ refrigerator," she pointed at the double-wide, "every time you just want a drink." She handed Maca a soft, light blue shirt. "Here, I thought you could wear this instead of that wet shirt. The bathroom is just down the hall. I'm going to go change as well." Martine led the way down the hall, opened the frosted-glass door to the bathroom, and continued to the bedroom, which had the same type of door. Maca was surprised that the glass doors gave the hallway an open feeling but also gave complete privacy.

When Maca was done changing shirts, she went back into the living room and heard a bell ring by the front door, which she remembered was the elevator. When she realized that Martine hadn't heard the bell, she knocked on Martine's bedroom door. "Martine, the door bell is ringing," Maca called through the frosted glass door.

"Would you mind seeing who it is? I'm going to be just a bit longer."

"Si, claro," Maca agreed. She went to the door and touched the "talk" button on the call box. "Yes?"

"Excuse me ma'am. This is Sam, the doorman. I have your bags from Betty."

"I'm sorry… Betty?"

"Yes ma'am, the motorcycle. Dr. Monroe left two leather backpacks in the trunk."

"Oh, si! Thank you. What should I do?"

"If it's okay, I'll just open the door now."

"Si. Por favor. Um, please." Maca heard a rattling of keys and then the door, which looked like a regular, wooden door, slid back and revealed the doorman on the elevator.

"Here you are, ma'am." He handed her the matching backpacks. "And please tell Dr. Monroe that I when I was drying off Betty I noticed that it's time for her tune-up."

"I will do that. Gracias, Sam." Maca gave him one of her charming smiles, which made him blush just a little, and he hit the button that would return him to his desk. She could hear him whistling until the elevator got out of range.

As she walked back into the living room she draped Martine's backpack over her shoulder while she reached for her cell phone at the bottom of her backpack. When she saw a strange appointment book, she realized that she had confused the two bags, so she put the one that was really Martine's on the floor beside the couch and sat in one of the matching comfy chairs with her own bag. She flushed out her cell phone and noticed that she had a missed call from Esther. She hit the button that would automatically connect her to her voicemail and listened to Esther's message:

 _"Hola, Cariño. I am practicing my English with you. How was your first day?"_ Esther asked in very carefully pronounced English. _"My day was okay. Pedro and Bernie ate worms today."_ Worms? Maca laughed and wondered what they had really eaten. _"Patricia having an appointment with the oncologista tomorrow. I will tell you how it goes. Jacobo is being a…I do not know the word in English. I will have to look on the Internet for the word."_ Maca laughed, imagining the types of websites Esther would find by searching for English curse words. _"Call me when you are no busy. I am going to sleep but I will leave the phone by the bed and wake up to hear you. Buenas noches, Cariño. Besos!"_

"Besos, mi amor." Maca whispered as she hung up the phone and just looked at the screen. It was a picture of Esther and the kids. It was tiny, only about four centimeters wide but she knew the picture well; it was the picture on the desktop of her computer as well. She wondered what Esther would have thought about Martine and the long-dormant feelings that today had stirred up. She pulled out a laminated card from her pocket and dialed the phone number.

 _"Hello?"_

"Roberto? This is Maca Fernandez."

 _"Yes, Dr. Fernandez. How can I help you? Are you ready to go?"_

"I _am_ ready but I am not at the hospital. I am at Dr. Martine Monroe's apartment, near a park. I don't know exactly where it is."

 _"It's okay, doctor. I know where it is. I will be there shortly."_

"Thank you." Maca closed her phone and returned it to her backpack.

"Is everything alright?" Martine limped back into the living room. She had replaced the black turtleneck and tan pants she was wearing for a wine colored t-shirt and a pair of black shorts that showed off her muscular physique and seemed to bring out the green in her eyes even more.

Maca nodded but had a quizzical look on her face. "Yes. Except that my son ate worms today."

"Worms?" Martine looked at her incredulously.

"That is what Esther said, 'worms'. She was practicing her English and I am not sure what she was trying to say. I cannot think of what it really might have been, I will have to ask her later." Maca thought of Esther catching Pedro and his little friend from school in the park eating worms. Esther would not be angry; she'd be laughing while she was trying to scold them.

"Do you miss her?" Martine asked softly. She limped to the couch and sat with her hurt leg stretched out, trying to ignore the pain and the redness on her kneecap.

Instead of answering right away, Maca went into the kitchen, grabbed a long dish towel and opened the doors of the large double-wide refrigerator. She found a plastic box filled with ice below the ice maker and put a handful of ice in the center of the dish towel, then closed the doors. Walking back to the couch, she twisted both ends, tied them together, and placed the ice pack on Martine's knee. "Yes, I miss her and my children. She is such a good mother. And a good nurse. She is so compassionate and she seems to understand people right away – where they hurt, what they feel, what they need." Maca sat down beside Martine.

"Those are good qualities for a mother and nurse… or a doctor. Thank you." Martine waved the ice pack at her. "She sounds very special. Perhaps someday I will meet her."

"How long has it been since you have been to España? You should come visit us."

"I haven't been to Spain since…" Martine hesitated; the subject was still too painful even after 20 years.

"Since?" Maca inquired when it seemed that Martine wouldn't continue. The cardiologist's eyes were sad and had turned a darker hue of green. They looked at each other, 20 years of silence still too much to overcome. Maca then realized that Martine was just as hurt because of what had happened back then, only she didn't know why.

The door bell rang before Martine could answer and she rose from the couch and, carrying the ice pack, limped to the call box. "Yes, Sam?"

 _"Dr. Monroe: Dr. Fernandez's car is here."_

"Oh? Okay. Thanks, Sam." She turned back to Maca. "Roberto is here."

"Vale. I can stay if you want to continue talking?" Maca asked.

Martine's inner walls may have been rocking but they were not ready to come down yet. "You've had a long day and tomorrow we're scheduled with a group of 'first years'. You know how they can be."

The two experienced physicians shared a knowing laugh with each other. Good first year interns were eager to prove themselves and were usually climbing over each other to be closest to the attending physician and to be the first with the answer, hoping it would be the right answer. The more right answers an intern gave, the closer they stayed to the 'attending' and the more experience they got with the patients. Six young interns took a lot of energy to handle, all vying for attention, all trying to please.

Maca wished now that she had not called Roberto. But she agreed that they needed to slow things down. It had been an emotional day for both of them. She nodded at her long lost friend. Silently they looked in each other's eyes, so much unsaid, until Martine pulled Maca off the couch and into a hug. Arms wrapped tightly around the other, chins on shoulders, they were two sixteen year old girls all over again.

Not willing to break the mood, Martine asked, "Do you want me to pick you up for breakfast? We can go over your schedule and talk about your presentation."

"Oh!" Maca stepped out of the hug and slapped Martine on the shoulder.

"Ow," the cardiologist rubbed her arm. "Wha'd I do?"

"I left my laptop in my locker! Mierda! I have another copy on a flash drive in my backpack. Waldo made sure I had a back-up."

"Backpacks! I left our bags in Betty's trunk." Martine started for the call box to ask Sam to retrieve them for her.

"Estas bien. Sam brought them up while you were changing. That is who was at the door. Yours is over there." Maca pointed to the bag on the floor by the couch.

"Thanks. That's great. Then it's settled. We can use my laptop tomorrow morning. I'll pick you up at 7:00. Okay?"

"Claro. I will see you at 7:00 o'clock." Maca grabbed her bag and walked over to the elevator door and hit the button to bring the elevator. "Do I need a key to go down?"

Martine didn't follow, afraid that she wouldn't be able to let Maca leave. "No, only coming up. You can just hit the button for the ground floor."

A bell dinged the arrival of the elevator and Maca hit the 'open door' button on the call box. The wooden door slid silently aside and Maca entered the large elevator. She stood against the back wall smiling at Martine and, as the door started to close, gave her a little wave. Just before the door closed, Maca remembered Betty the black Yamaha, "Do not forget that it is time for Betty's tune-up."

Unsure of how Maca knew that, Martine answered, "Oh, okay, thanks!" She waved back and watched as the elevator began descending. She limped through the living room and out onto the terrace. She leaned against the high, thick wall, stood on her tiptoes to peer over the wall, and looked down at the street far below. Fighting the vertigo that anyone looking down two hundred feet would have, she watched Roberto open the rear passenger door and then she waited until the chestnut-haired figure walked out of the building and into the long black limousine. Roberto was the only one who knew to look up.

After the limousine had driven out of sight, Martine returned to the couch and picked up her black backpack. She removed the Daytimer and put it on the red block that was part of the coffee table. Then she fished deeper in her bag for a long, white paper bag at the bottom. She took out this bag, checked the label and removed a small bottle. A bottle that contained the medicine she needed to stay alive long enough to have a happy ending.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six – A Day at the Hospital, a Night at the Lake**

For Maca, the next day was a blur. As promised, Martine picked her up Wednesday morning at 7:00 a.m. But instead of the black Yamaha motorcycle, the cardiologist was in a silver Mercedes convertible two-seater. The blue canvas top was down and they drove through the cool Atlanta streets talking about the weather, the hospital and some of the events that Maca would be attending while she was in Atlanta. The women drove to the "OutWrite Bookstore" and discussed Maca's presentation over coffee and bagels. Maca had never been to the gay bookstore before and bought several books and postcards to send back home. Martine suggested that when they had the time, they should also check out "Brushstrokes", another gay-themed store on Piedmont Avenue.

At Eggleston, they spent the rest of the day with a group of first-year interns discussing triage and emergency care for infants and children, handling incoming cases with the regular emergency room doctors, and looking over the plans for a new pediatric triage center at the hospital. Maca was impressed with the hospital and wished for a similar one in Madrid. But she knew that the hospitals were run by the government and the five hospitals in Madrid fought for every Euro in their budget. The chances were minimal that a hospital just for children would be justifiable.

At 9:00 p.m., Maca realized that she should be tired but she wasn't. She was exhilarated! She was treating children, teaching young doctors, having consultations over patient care with other emergency pediatricians. And she was doing it with her childhood best friend at her side. This was how they had planned to spend their lives, working together, saving lives together, _being_ together. At sixteen and in an all-girl boarding school, they had only just begun to discover what "being together" meant. The tender touches, the light kisses late at night, not quite being able to put words to their feelings. They shared a common dream but somehow that dream had crashed before it ever began and Maca knew that she had to find out why.

Maca waited an hour in the doctor's lounge for Martine to finish. She and Jimmy had been in a meeting, apparently discussing a patient; and although the words were muffled, everyone passing by could tell it was a heated discussion. When the door finally opened and Martine emerged, she looked weary and forlorn but only for a moment before putting on that self-assured persona that was her signature look. Martine looked through the window of the doctor's lounge and saw Maca watching her and gave her a reassuring smile when she saw the pediatrician's worried look.

"Estas bien?" Maca asked when the cardiologist entered the doctor's lounge.

"Yes, Cherie. Everything is fine." Martine answered unconvincingly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

 _Not yet,_ Martine thought to herself. _I'm not ready to talk about it yet. But Jimmy is right. It will have to be soon._ "No, I want to eat. Are you ready to go? Are you hungry?"

"Yes, and yes." Starving, Maca nodded, slammed her laptop in its bag, grabbed her jacket and started to follow Martine out of the lounge when her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the screen. "It's Esther. I'd better take this. We keep missing each other." She flipped open the phone. "Hola, Cariño. Uno momento, por favor, vale?" She turned back to Martine. "You do not have to wait if you do not want to. I can get Roberto to take me to the hotel."

Just then several doctors slid around Martine standing in the doorway and entered the lounge exuberantly discussing yesterday's Braves game. Maca put a hand over her open ear so she could hear Esther's reply. Martine signaled for Maca to follow her and they went a little ways down the hall to Martine's office.

"Try in here. It will be quieter and no one will disturb you."

"This is great. Thank you so much." She put the phone back to her ear. "Cariño, uno momento por favor. Te echo de menos también. Permítanme decir adiós a Martine y podemos hablar. Vale?" To Martine, "Breakfast?"

"Absolutely. I know a wonderful little place that serves the best crepes. 7:00 a.m. okay?"

"Do they have blueberry crepes?" Maca looked like a child on Christmas morning.

"The best I've ever tasted!" Martine promised. "Don't forget to wear white!" Martine teased and winked at her.

Maca laughed as she was reminded of an incident at school. When the girls were in cooking class, Martine started a food fight with a handful of blueberries mashed down the front of Maca's crisp white shirt. Neither girl was allowed back into the class that semester and Maca blames the harsh teacher for her missing out on the chance to learn how to cook when she was younger. It was because she wanted to make up for that deficit that she decided to enroll in the cooking class at Hospital Central and discovered a shared passion for good food and wine that sparked her friendship with Esther.

Maca remembered that Esther was on the phone in her hand. "Oh! Esther! ¿Sigues ahí?" She looked up at Martine, who waved at her and mouthed _"mañana"._ Maca nodded and waved back as Martine closed the door behind her, leaving Maca in the dimly lit office.

Martine walked down the hall still feeling the weight of her argument with Jimmy. She left the hospital in the little silver car and, top down, she drove through the city towards her favorite place. A Lara Fabian CD was blaring at top volume; the cool wind refreshed her head and her spirit. The words of the song reverberated inside her: _But I was falling in those eyes of yours. And so fear was gone. I know there was nothing I'd ever want._

The trip was so familiar that she didn't have to think as she made her way from the hospital to Interstate 75/85. She went north and at Jimmy Carter Blvd. she headed west. A few minutes of driving took her away from the subdivisions and into the countryside. She turned onto a road that had several large houses, mansions really, surrounded by iron fences. She pulled into the drive of one near the end of the road and hit a button on the dashboard of the small car. She paused to let the gate open just enough to slide her car through, smelling the vast array of flowers in bloom, and waved as she passed the two bronze horses. She loved living in downtown Atlanta but _this_ was her home.

Martine turned off the music and drove quietly down the flagstone road lined with pecan trees. When she reached the main house she turned right and continued around the back. She passed the herb garden, the flower house and the stables and stopped at the small pier that jutted out into the lake. She parked next to the boat house and waited to see if she woke anyone at the main house. She turned off the car, walked over to the boat house and pulled open the door. Reaching inside, she took down a tall thin bottle of something she probably shouldn't drink from a shelf above the door. She continued down the pier toward the glassy, black lake. At the end of the long pier was a large, square platform. During the hot summer days, as many as 6 people could sunbath side-by-side on the platform and jump from the edge into the cool water. A small sailboat was moored on one side and a fishing boat with a small outboard motor was moored on the other. Hanging from the front was a sun-bleached wooden ladder that extended into the lake. A rustic bench, as sun-bleached as the ladder, was placed near the back of the platform and looked out over the lake.

The bench was Martine's goal tonight. This was _her_ spot. Where she thought. Where she cried. Where she made her life's decisions. And sometimes where she just sat and watched and didn't think at all. This was where she had the last conversation with her father. This was where she came instead of his funeral. This is where she yelled at him for leaving; yelled at God for taking him away. The lake and the sky above it was her church and this old, unpainted, wooden bench was her pew.

She sat for awhile, sipping on the fifth of Southern Comfort. Each sip warmed her. The April night had cooled and she zipped her leather coat and pulled the short collar around her neck. Although she tried not to think, she couldn't keep the words and images away. Images of Maca crying, Maca laughing, Maca scoring the goal, Maca under the blue blanket so close that their noses touched, Maca swaggering down the halls of the emergency room like a sailor learning to walk on dry land, hips swaying from side to side.

She took another swig from the bottle. _"You've got to tell her. She deserves to know why you really brought her here."_ echoed Jimmy's words. Swig. _"I was afraid of never seeing you again,"_ echoed Maca's words. Swig. _"There's nothing else we can do. Make the most of the time that's left."_ Swig.

She hadn't heard the other car drive up, or the door open and close, or the footsteps walk down the wooden pier. "You shouldn't drink that, you know." He always knew where to find her.

"Wha's it gon' do? Kill me." When she drank, her Creole accent intensified.

"You're being morbid. It's not like you to indulge in self-pity." Roberto scolded as he sat down beside her. "Here, give me that." He took the bottle from her and took a long drink before handing it back to her. "Too sweet," he complained. "That's a drink for chicas."

Martine took another swallow and handed him the bottle. He drank the sweet liquor anyway. "She at the hotel?"

"Of course. She talked the whole way there about the hospital and you. She was worried about the conversation you had with Jimmy." _Ah hah_ , Martine thought _, that's why he came._ "She loved the ER. She said the residents were the best she'd ever worked with. I bet it wouldn't be hard to convince her to stay and work there. She loves Eggleston." He handed her back the bottle.

"I wouldn't do that to her." Swig.

"No. You'd rather have your way with her and then say goodbye. And leave her to pick up her life where she left it."

Swig. "I don' need to hear that from you." She rose and stalked to the edge of the wooden platform. She couldn't look at him. She knew he was right.

He followed her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Gently he pleaded. "Chica, she has no idea what you have gotten her into. If you love her so much, you should tell her… before it's too late."

She dropped her head. "Berto, the moment I do, it will all change. It won't be about us anymo'. It will be about me. I just wan' a little time where my life is what it was spos'd to be."

Standing behind her, he wrapped his long arms around her and pulled her to him. He looked over her shoulder at the black lake and lights from the houses around the lake. "Chica, you've saved hundreds of lives. Beautiful women around the world have thrown themselves at you. You have more money than some small countries. You've had a father and mother who loved you, and an aunt who would give you the world. You've been all over the world and tasted the best food and wine it has to offer." He paused for effect. "And you have me."

She had to smile at that. "An' I have you: the best friend anyone could ask fo'."

"Of course." He rocked her. "You've had more than most people wish for."

"What? Are you the angel Clarence now? I've had a wunerful life so I should be content? No! Maca is my soulmate! I believe that wit' all my heart. But when my father died, it took away my chance for a life wit' Maca. I lost her for so long. Then I read dat article and saw her picture in the Spanish medical journal and I knew it was another chance."

"But for how long, Marty? A month? That's not fair to her."

"Tha's all I need. She's here fo' a month and then she goes back to Spain, an' Esther, an' her family. She doesn't have to know anything mo' than dat."

"What if she decides that she doesn't want to go back to Spain? What if you give her the world on a platter and she decides she likes it? The best hospital, a gorgeous condo, cars, motorcycles, money. And you. If what you say is true and she is your soulmate, then she has been missing you too. How can she resist you? One look in your eyes and she can tell that you love her, we all can. It's hard to resist a beautiful woman who loves you and can give you the world. So what happens if she decides to stay?"

"I won' let that happen." She spun out of his arms. But the movement and the liquor were too much and she got dizzy and nearly fell in the water. Roberto's quick reflexes saved her from a cold midnight swim. He grabbed her arm and tried to guide her back to the bench. "Don't." She pulled away from him. "I can't let that happen. One month. Dat's it."

She staggered back up the pier, the alcohol and the cold clouding her mind. Roberto followed her closely to make sure she didn't trip on any of the wooden planks. He caught her when she stumbled on the dirt path leading back to the house. She started to take another drink of the sweet brown liquor but he grabbed the bottle from her.

"Give me that. You've had enough," he chided. "Do you have the lid?" Tired of arguing, she reached in the pocket of her leather jacket and took out the black cap and gave it to him. As they passed the long black limousine, he put the bottle on top of the car and continued walking with Martine back toward the main house.

The long day, quite a bit of Southern Comfort and the cool air began to take its toll on the tired doctor and her steps slowed and her feet dragged on the dirt path. As if she were one of his wounded comrades, Roberto wrapped his left arm around her waist and put her right arm around his shoulders and guided her the rest of the way to the house. They stumbled up the six stairs on the back porch and walked across the wide veranda that wrapped around the building. He propped her against the house, keeping hold of her leather jacket to prevent her from sliding away, and pulled open the screen door and pushed open the kitchen door. He stopped at the long butcher-block table that stood in the center of the huge kitchen and lifted her onto it. As she sat, leaning over, exhausted and nearly asleep, he pulled off her boots and then took off his own black shoes. He didn't want to wake everyone in the Bed and Breakfast as he maneuvered her up the two flights of stairs to bedroom.

Roberto's thoughts wandered as he carried Martine up the two flights of stairs. He thought about Martine's parents and how they had created this house and the estate that surrounded it.

Martin Monroe had been a new clerk working for the State Department in Washington when he met the very young and pretty Lucy Fitzgerald, a hospital nurse and the daughter of a Georgia senator, at a state dinner. She was immediately attracted to the young man from New Orleans with the most interesting green eyes and unusual Creole accent.

Shortly after they married in 1956, Martin was assigned as a junior ambassador to Spain. He had been on a tour of the wine country when his carriage nearly collided with a runaway horse. A young man raced after the horse as it ran down the ditches between the rows of grape vines, Spanish profanities trailing behind him. Martin jumped off the carriage and raced after the boy and the huge horse. Martin ran down a parallel ditch and when he saw a small pond ahead of them, shouted to the boy to steer the horse toward it. Both men doubled their efforts to catch up to the horse and just as it broke through the grape vines and headed toward the pond, the boy threw the lasso and it slipped over the horse's head. The horse kept running toward the pond, pulling the boy. Martin caught up to them and grabbed the rope and tried to help pull the horse to a stop. When the horse reached the pond, he turned to the left but the momentum propelled the two men like fishing bait into the water. The horse continued running, the long rope loosely trailing behind him, but he grew tired of the game and stopped. He cantered back to the pond and stopped for a drink as the two drenched men emerged, laughing and cursing.

Martin started to introduce himself but as he reached out his hand, he saw that his hands were raw from the rope burn. Instead of shaking the boy's outstretched hand he took the boy's wrist and inspected his hands. The skin was raw and cracked, and blood and pond water dripped onto the dirt. Martin insisted that the boy return with him to his hotel where his wife was waiting so she could dress the wounds on their hands. The boy, Pedro Wilson, started to object but Martin wouldn't accept no as an answer. They walked the horse back to the road. Pedro rode the horse bareback beside Martin's carriage and the two men talked as they traveled to the luxurious but small country inn.

Pedro was the son of the vineyard owner. The horse was one of six Andalusians that he owned and bred, a passion he inherited from his grandfather. Martin described how he and the ambassador were part of a committee helping the Spanish king develop an economic plan to rebuild Spain since the communists had been removed from power.

Pedro was introduced to the beautiful and charming Lucy Monroe, and was beet red the entire time that she cleaned and bandaged his hands. She had wavy blond hair that she controlled with a pair of ivory combs, and blue eyes the color of robin's eggs. Like her husband, she was tall and thin and when she smiled, her slightly open lips revealed even, white teeth. Pedro probably wouldn't admit if he realized it, but the first reason that Rosario caught his attention was because she looked so much like Lucy Monroe.

Pedro introduced Martin to Andalusian horses and Spanish riojas; and Martin introduced Pedro to American democracy, Cuban cigars, and Tennessee whiskey. They were lifelong friends and corresponded no matter where Martin traveled in the world. When Lucy finally decided that she needed a home to raise their children, it was Pedro who gave the beautiful estate just outside of Atlanta the name "Rancho Lucia". Martin, his sister Emily, and Emily's husband, George Foster, became importers of Pedro's Andalusians. Emily and George handled much of the successful business while Martin continued to get promoted within the State Department, finally becoming Ambassador to Spain in 1987.

The Monroe family had been stationed in Guam when they found out that Lucy was pregnant. Martine was born in 1971 and they saw her as a heavenly gift. But the birth was hard and left Lucy weak, and a few months later, Lucy died of typhus. Martin was crushed at the loss of his beloved wife and blamed the infant for her death. He sent the child to his sister Emily and her husband George Foster in New Orleans. George hired his brother John to manage the ranch in Georgia and it was to Rancho Lucia and the memories of his wife that Martin returned whenever there were breaks in his assignments.

From time to time, Pedro Wilson would visit Martin at Rancho Lucia, bringing with him his small, happy daughter Macarena. Rosario usually stayed in Jerez caring for their four boys because she had trouble with the long flight. Pedro noticed how happy Martin was with Maca and urged him to send for his own daughter.

One Christmas when Martine was ten years old, Emily and George brought her to Rancho Lucia. Martin was fascinated by his child – she had the black wavy hair of his Black Irish heritage and his distinctive green eyes, and she had Lucy's smile and long, gangly legs. Normally an outgoing child, Martine was shy around her father. He found her in the stables talking to the horses one morning and they discovered a mutual love of the majestic animal. Through that love of horses he began bridging the years and distance to develop a strong love and tenderness for his intellectual and imaginative child. When he told her that he had been offered an assignment in Paris, she asked to go with him and for the next six years she traveled around the world with him.

The U.S. State Department quietly suggested that because of Martin's work around the world, it might be safer to put Martine in a special school where she could be protected. Martin didn't want to be too far from his daughter so he insisted that wherever he was sent, she attend the nearest boarding school. So, she was moved from one exceptional school to another, getting the best education the world had to offer. She excelled at languages, mathematics, science, and loved the outdoors. She was outgoing but kept other people at a distance, a habit she attributed from moving so often, but one her aunt assumed she acquired from a childhood separated from her father and mother.

Despite the fact that their fathers had been the best of friends and business partners for thirty years, the two girls didn't meet until 1987, when Martin became ambassador to Spain and moved his daughter to a boarding school near Madrid. The same boarding school that Maca had attended since she was a little girl.

Roberto knew the stories. His father had been the stable master at Rancho Lucia until he died five years ago. But Roberto had no interest in horses or school, so after he graduated high school in June of 2000 he joined the marines. _"A new millennium and a world of opportunities!"_ he thought to himself. After September 11th, 2001 and a tour in Iraq during Desert Storm, he came home to Atlanta a changed man. Now all he wanted was to get through each day without seeing the memories of the war. He bought the black limousine with his savings and, with his good looks and Latin charm, kept his schedule full. Last year, his six-figure income rivaled Martine's and he paid his own way when they spent a month in Italy.

After Roberto returned from Iraq, he spent nearly a year at Rancho Lucia living with his father in the carriage house beside the stables. The simple routine of caring for the horses helped to quiet the storm of bombs and rifle-fire inside his head. Since most of her childhood had been either in New Orleans or abroad with her father, Martine had only lived at Rancho Lucia occasionally. When her aunt Emily took over managing the estate as a bed and breakfast, she kept the top floor free for Martine. The cardiologist had actually been living there for several years when Roberto came home from Iraq, and she and the young marine developed a playful, caring friendship. The two spent holidays together traveling the world, going to art auctions, exploring nightclub after nightclub looking for beautiful women, and throwing elegant parties at the condo for other beautiful and rich but aimless vagabonds.

Now his best friend was dying. Her heart had failed shortly after she came home at seventeen. It had been replaced, and that one had been replaced as well. Now, there were no more options, no more replacement hearts; her body was rejecting the replacement heart and there was nothing more the doctors could do for her. Nothing she could do for herself. The old adage "physician heal thyself" didn't always work. One of the world's best cardiologists was dying of heart failure and she couldn't do anything about it. _"There's nothing else we can do. Make the most of the time that's left."_ That's all the doctors said anymore.

He walked up the back stairs of the main house at Rancho Lucia carrying the fatigued doctor. _How much longer would she be able to walk these stairs?_ he thought to himself sadly. When they reached her floor, he kicked open the bedroom, picked her up and carried her the rest of the way to the large bed. He laid her down and began to remove her leather jacket and outer shirt, leaving only a black tank top. He left her jeans on but removed her socks.

"You see, you wore yourself out, Chica." He chided her. "You've got to take care of yourself."

"One month," she whispered.

"What?"

"I jus' need one month. I just wanna be happy for once." Tears began to flow from her eyes.

"I know, Chica, I know. But at what expense? Do you really want to make Maca miserable?"

"No," she cried. "I love her. I've always loved her."

"I know. I know. Shhh. It will be okay. Shhh," he brushed the tears from her cheeks. "Sleep now. You need to rest. Okay?"

She nodded as she drifted toward sleep. He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her on the cheek. As he straightened and turned toward the door, Miss Emily stepped in to check on her niece. "How is she?" she whispered.

He shook his head, thought for a second, shrugged and said, "She'll be okay… tomorrow." As he passed her, he gave her a light hug. When he released her, she put her hand on his cheek, the way his mother used to do when he had done something nice for her.

"You're a good boy," Emily said, pride and thankfulness clearly conveyed. She wiped a tear from his cheek. These two were her children, or at least the ones left in her care. One was very ill and the other was trying to pretend that her illness didn't affect him. Each one was trying to show how strong they were. The pretense was failing as the time drew to a close. He leaned over and kissed her forehead, and left silently.

Emily walked over to the sleeping woman and pulled a chair near the bed. About fifteen minutes later, Martine began to grow fitful, moaning and turning in her sleep. Emily grabbed the wastebasket beside the nightstand and placed it on the floor near Martine's head. Another few minutes went by and finally Martine sat up, eyes wide, trying to get her bearings, strange noises coming from her stomach.

Emily handed her the wastebasket. "Here." She stood up and pulled Martine's hair into a ponytail. And waited. A few spasms later, the Southern Comfort was out. Emily got a wet washcloth from the adjoining bathroom and wiped her niece's face, neck and hands. The washcloth was cool and soft. After cleaning out the wash cloth and the wastebasket, she returned to the woman in the bed. "When was the last time you ate?"

Martine made a face that said she couldn't imagine eating right now, moaned, and rolled into a fetal position. Emily felt Martine's pulse and put her hand on her forehead to check her temperature. "Where are your pills?" Martine reached into her front pocket and pulled out a tiny brown bottle. Emily opened the bottle and poured out one of the tiny tablets. Emily handed her the small pill, which she placed under her tongue. "How do you feel?" the matron asked.

"Ugh," Martine moaned. "Like crap."

"Uh huh. I bet. I should have made John throw out that bottle when he found it. I don't know why you keep making it hard on yourself." Emily sat on the edge of the bed.

"Because I'm not ready yet." The tears began to pour again.

"I know, Cherie. I know." Emily brushed the hair from Martine's forehead. "No one is ever ready for that." Her own tears began to fall. She wasn't ready for it either. "Come here." She pulled Martine into a hug and the two women rocked and cried together until there were no more tears. Emily laid Martine back onto her pillows and pulled a white sheet covered with tiny pink flowers up to her shoulders. Martine was asleep before Emily closed the bedroom door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven – Puzzles Pieces and Cotton Candy Riddles**

Roberto was waiting for Maca at 7:00 a.m. in front of the Emory Inn. Maca was surprised that it was him and not Martine but he explained that the cardiologist had spent much of the night caring for a very sick patient and needed to get some sleep before going in to work. _It wasn't a total lie_ , Roberto thought.

"Would you like to get breakfast, señora?"

"Okay. What do you suggest?"

In the mood for some of his mother's cooking, which was impossible since she lived in New York with his step-father and his half-brother, he thought of a little Cuban place that served rich espresso and the best empanadas in Atlanta. "Do you trust me, señora?" he grinned seductively at her.

"Con mi estómago? Si." She laughed back at him. I bet he gets lots of women with that smile. "Vamanos."

He opened the rear door for her and she entered, still laughing. He closed the door and jogged to the driver's seat. When he saw that she had taken out a folder from her backpack and was making notes on the borders, he realized that she was very much like Martine. She would work until someone told her to stop or until she was too exhausted to continue. But her trip wasn't just about work and he knew that somehow he needed to help her with that.

When they arrived at the little café, Roberto ordered them a basket of empanadas and two coffees. They found a table outside and sat in metal chairs across from each other. Maca watched the younger man for a moment and understood that beneath his carefree façade was a depth of carefully controlled emotion. His eyes gave him away; he was troubled by something that he was trying to hide from her, perhaps from himself.

She wanted to know more about the handsome man across from her. She asked him how he had come to be a chauffer and he told her about being a marine, about September 11th, and about Iraq. They talked about Atlanta, the Olympics, Six Flags and the 'World of Coca Cola'. But whenever she asked questions about Martine, he gave her short answers that made it clear that he didn't want to discuss the cardiologist with her. She stopped prying and enjoyed the empanadas and the rich coffee.

After two cups of café con leche and a handful of small empanadas filled with beef, cheese or ham, Maca confirmed that Roberto could indeed be trusted with her stomach. He grinned and nodded his head. "Si, señora. You can trust me." He winked. She laughed out loud.

"Estas muy mal." She shook her head, unable to stop smiling. "You remind me of my youngest brother. His name is also Roberto."

He was horrified! _Uff, her brother!_ "Then he is handsome and charming as well, señora?"

"Uh huh. And _very_ humble. Si." _Esther would really like this one_ , she admitted.

"Ah! Then he is a great man and very lucky to have a sister as guapa y intelligentia as you, señora." He watched her blush but thought it best not to continue. "Now what would you like to do today. Do you have appointments at the hospital?"

"Nothing definite until 4:00 p.m. I have a meeting with Dr. Belter and the hospital reporter who is writing an article for the university journal." Maca hesitated for a moment and then decided what she wanted to do. "I _would_ like to do something."

"Si, señora. What would you like to do?"

"Well… do you think Martine will be awake soon?" She was surprised by how much she already missed her old friend and she didn't really want to go to the hospital without her. Her joy about being at Eggleston was primarily because Martine was there.

"You want to see Martine?" Roberto wasn't sure if that was such a good idea, yet.

"Yes, please. I know something is wrong but I'm not sure what. I just want to make sure she's okay."

Roberto wondered if perhaps she knew about the cardiologist's condition. Maybe she had heard it from another doctor in the ER. If she knew then it would be time for Martine to talk with her about it. Miss Emily would know what to do. "Let me check. One minute please."

Maca nodded and finished her café con leche while Roberto moved away and made a call on his cell phone. A couple of minutes later he returned to their table. "Si, señora. She's not awake yet but we can go."

"Oh, is she with someone?" It hadn't occurred to Maca that Martine might have a spouse who shared the beautiful condo with her. "We do not have to…"

Understanding Maca's hesitation, Roberto cut her off. "It's okay, señora. It's only her aunt."

"Oh! Well I guess that is okay. I'm ready when you are."

Roberto finished his espresso in one gulp, put his black chauffeur's cap on, and left a five dollar tip. They returned to the car and he drove her towards Interstate 75/85 and then to Jimmy Carter Blvd. She began having a sense of déjà vu but didn't say anything. When he pulled up to the iron gates and drove between the two bronze horses and toward the gate, she rolled down the window. She watched as he drove under the sign 'Rancho Lucia' and down the flagstone driveway. A morning mist still settled on the lawn and she saw robins jump in the grass and fly off. Roberto parked in front of the broad stairs leading to the white veranda, and Miss Emily came to the screen door to greet them. She opened the door and invited them inside.

"Good morning, Dr. Fernandez. I'm so glad you've come back so soon. How are you this morning?"

She was confused. "I'm fine. Gracias, Señora Emily. How are you?"

"I'm wonderful, my dear. We've got breakfast served in the dining room if you are hungry? Martine is still sleeping, if you would like to get something while you wait."

"I've already eaten. Gracias. Roberto took me to this café that makes the most wonderful beef empanadas. Perhaps just some orange juice, por favor."

"Certainly. Why don't you have a seat in the library and I will bring you something. Roberto can you eat?"

"Yes, ma'am." He grinned. She smiled at him and pushed him toward the dining room. She knew he would never turn down Miss Annie's grits and biscuits no matter how many empanadas he had already had.

Maca went into the quiet library and looked around curiously for some hint to the puzzle she had in her mind. She had the pieces but wasn't sure how they all fit together.

"Here you go, my dear." Emily handed her a tall glass of fresh orange juice. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you alright?"

"I think I may have. I don't quite understand something. Is Martine _here_?"

"Yes, she is."

"And how do you know her?"

"She's my niece. Her father Martin was my brother."

"Senor Martin era su padre," Maca said to herself. "She never mentioned that she lived here."

"Although this is her home, she hasn't spent much time here. Just after she was born, her mother died of typhus. Martin didn't think it would be safe for her in Guam so he sent Martine to live with me and my husband in New Orleans. She lived with us until he felt she was old enough to travel with him. He took her with him on his assignments to Tokyo, Paris, and Madrid. That must have been where you two met."

Maca nodded. "She never really talked about her father; she just said he was in politics."

"That was safest. He was an ambassador. The children of diplomats are trained not to discuss their parents for fear of being kidnapped or worse. There's nothing worse than a child that is used as a pawn in some country's attempt to get back political prisoners or an embargo lifted."

Maca nodded, unable to argue with the logic. "It is beginning to make sense. Our fathers were friends. The times that we came to Atlanta, Martine must have been with you in New Orleans. And she came to España with Senor Martin when he became the ambassador." They had lived their lives in parallel, close but never touching until they met at the boarding school in Madrid. But she still didn't understand why Martine left Spain and never said another word, never wrote.

"Señora Emily, there's still something I don't understand." Emily looked at her curiously, waiting for the question she knew she couldn't answer. "Why did Martine leave España, leave school, leave…" _me?_ Maca's throat tightened and couldn't finish the sentence; she touched her hand to her chest.

Emily smiled at her the way parents and doctors smile when they know they can't answer the question. "I'm sorry, my dear. Martine is going to have to answer that."

Maca knew better than to try to argue with her. "Can I see her?" she pleaded.

Emily nodded. "She's on the third floor. She may still be asleep though. She had a long night."

Maca thanked her and, taking the glass of orange juice with her, climbed the grand staircase to the second floor and then a smaller staircase to the third floor. Two open doors revealed a bathroom and another bedroom. She opened the third door about an inch and peaked in. The bed was on the opposite wall and Martine lay under the covers, still, her breath deep but irregular. Maca's trained ear caught the irregularity and wondered if Martine was having a problem with the springtime pollen.

She walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. Martine was facing the edge of the bed, lying partially on her stomach and partially on a pillow, her head on another pillow. Still dressed in her black tank top and blue jeans, her long bare feet stuck out from underneath the sheet. Maca rubbed her back in gentle circles. That helped her daughter Patricia whenever she was having trouble sleeping. But it had the reverse affect on Martine and the woman began to ease awake, recognizing the light perfume as Maca's.

It wasn't a dream. "You're here!?" Martine twisted her neck to get confirmation with her eyes. "Ow!"

"Yes, I'm here. Here, slide over. Give me that pillow." She removed the pillow from underneath Martine's stomach and made her lie down flat on the bed. She began massaging Martine's neck and then her shoulders and back. Martine moaned in pleasure. "They told me you had a hard night, last night. You work too much. You should leave some of the patients for the other doctors."

Martine nodded, appreciating the lie her aunt told. The night _had_ been rough, patient or not. "Did I see some orange juice?"

"Yes, here." Maca helped her roll over and put the pillows behind her head, then handed her the tall glass. Martine drank half the glass in one gulp and handed it back to Maca. Maca placed the glass back on the night stand and looked at Martine.

The two looked in each other's eyes for a long moment, neither sure what to say. Finally, Maca couldn't resist any longer and brushed a hair that had fallen on Martine's cheek. She continued stroking Martine's forehead, eye brows, and ran her finger down the slope of the long, straight nose. Martine closed her eyes as Maca continued to trace the contours of her face, her ears, her neck. This was how Maca had awakened her many mornings in their shared bedroom at school.

The hand stopped and Martine opened her eyes. Maca was watching her, smiling and she smiled back. She looked in Martine's eyes, questioning, searching, and Maca saw what she had always seen: love, desire, passion.

Martine's eyes drew Maca down, closer, until their lips were just a breath apart. Had either moved just a centimeter, they would have kissed. But something still kept them from making that final movement that would have brought them together for the first time in twenty years. Both were thinking the same thing but from different perspectives: the cost would be too high. For Martine, her quest would be won – she had found Maca and could spend the next three weeks happy and content – but then what would be left to live for? For Maca, the past would begin to be repaired but that might cause the loss of the future she had with Esther.

Martine couldn't breath. Her heart beat and faltered, beat and faltered. _Damn heart is going to fail right now_ , the cardiologist thought angrily _. I need to slow this down._ She pulled the pediatrician down to the bed and rolled her on her side. Maca didn't object, she too had been surprised at how quickly the old feelings had returned and needed a moment to collect herself. They spooned in the cool bed, Martine's arm over Maca's waist, their fingers entwined, Maca lightly brushing the arm draped over her.

Time disappeared.

 _There's a phone ringing. Do you want to answer it?_ Martine said in her dream _._

 _No,_ was the reply from the fog. The ringing stopped. _Mita, se pararse_ , the fog said.

Both women realized that they weren't dreaming. A phone had rung and woken them. Maca rolled over and looked into the green eyes. "Hola," she whispered.

"Hi, yourself, Cherie. How are you?"

"I'm okay. But you…" the pediatrician put her hand on the center of Martine's chest and the cardiologist stopped breathing, her eyes wide with panic. "It's okay." Maca reassured her. "Breathe." Martine let out the breath she was holding. "You sounded like you were having trouble breathing. Are you having trouble with … ¿Cómo se dice?" She said a phrase in Spanish that Martine had heard before: "fiebre del heno?"

"Hayfever?"

"Si, that's it, 'hayfever'. Are you having trouble with the pollen?"

Martine was relieved and thought it best to keep the lie going for a little while longer. "Yes. I am having a little trouble."

"Let me listen," Maca rolled them both over so she was on top of Martine and put her ear on Martine's chest.

"It's okay. I'll get some Claritin at the hospital." Martine tried to push her off.

"Shh. Quiero escuchar." Maca was too close, for too many reasons.

"I said I'm okay." Martine put her hands on Maca's waist and picked her up in a bench-press move and flipped her over and dropped her on the bed beside her. Before Maca could react, Martine rolled on top of her, straddling her and pinning her hands above her head. "I said I am okay." Martine insisted and smiled at her to soften the tone of her words. "Okay?"

Maca nodded, still surprised at how easily Martine lifted her.

Martine looked in the chocolate eyes and they drew her closer, again their lips nearly touched but didn't. Her conversation with Roberto last night echoed in her head. _No_ , she decided, _she didn't want to make Maca miserable. She hurt the woman once by leaving and not saying goodbye, not saying why. She didn't want to hurt her again._ "Shall we start the day?" she inquired of Maca as she released her hands.

Maca shook her head no and reached for the black hair that cascaded over her. She collected it into a handful and pulled the green eyes toward her, pulling Martine into a tight embrace, emotions overwhelming her. Martine thought about holding back but her own desire, a desire built up for twenty years, yelled at her to give in – she wanted to hold Maca, she wanted to kiss her and love her and give her all the things her money and her wits could give her. She returned the hug with equally strong emotions.

Maca's hands rubbed Martine's back feeling muscle and bone; Maca felt Martine's erratic heartbeat pounding against her and heard her shallow breathing. Something didn't sound right but she attributed it to excited emotions, hay fever and overwork, but mostly excitement. Seemingly of their own volition, Maca's hands began to move down Martine's back and pulled up her tank top, caressing the soft skin underneath.

"Whoa." She pulled Maca's hands off her back and jumped out of the bed. She found the shirt that Roberto had removed and pulled that up to her chin, covering her front. "I think we're moving a little fast."

Maca laughed in disbelief. "Fast? Cariño, it's been twenty years." She crawled across the big bed and sat on the edge, looking at her feet, not wanting to see the rejection in Martine's eyes. "I…Lo siento…I thought that is what you wanted. I thought that is what we both wanted." Tears started to collect in Maca's brown eyes.

"Oh, Cherie, I do want you," Martine knelt at Maca's feet, ignoring the purple bruise on her knee, and lifted Maca's face so she could see into her eyes. "From the first day we met, I have wanted you. Do you remember that? The headmistress was giving me a tour when I first arrived and when we got the pool, I saw you and Azucena debating about Pablo Neruda. You stood up to shake my hand, wearing nothing but that red bathing suit and I couldn't even say my own name. I loved that someone so beautiful and confident could be so smart. When the senora said that we were going to be roommates, Azucena looked at me like I was the devil; but I didn't care what she thought – I wanted you all to myself. But it's not just me I have to think of now. I have to think of you, of Esther, of your kids. You are here for a month and then you're going home to them. I don't want you to do anything that you would have to lie about or that would break down all you've had to do to rebuild your relationship with Esther."

"I can't believe you remember that." Maca was confused by her own mixed feelings: give in to her desire for Martine and relive the passion of their youth, or resist and be able to return to Esther and the life she had fought for, that she was still fighting for.

Maca looked in the sad green eyes filled with love. They couldn't hide Martine's feelings, it was clear that she loved Maca. And the way her body responded when they touched; it was clear that she wanted Maca. But she kept pulling away. Maca kept getting pieces of a puzzle that just didn't make sense.

"So why am I here? Why did you bring me to Atlanta?" she asked.

Martine gave her as much information as she dared. "I tried to find you after you graduated from high school but I couldn't get any replies from my inquiries. I guess you were already using Fernandez then because I couldn't find any information about Macarena Wilson. Three months ago, I was doing some research on heart transplants and I read an article in the Spanish Journal of Medicine about the transplant you did. It had a picture of the consulting doctors and there you were! After twenty years I had finally found you. Jimmy saw the article open on my desk and was impressed. He suggested that we invite you all to come and talk about your work. He had me get in touch with your hospital director… Sotomayor."

"Javier."

"Javier Sotomayor, yes. He said that if we pay for all of your expenses he would allow you all to come. You were the only one who could get the time off apparently."

Maca had so many questions she didn't know where to start. "The vineyard?" seemed to be the first to come out clearly.

"What, Cherie?"

"Did you try to contact the vineyard?"

"I did. I sent several letters but you never replied. I thought that you had gotten over me, or that maybe it had just been a phase for you."

The reality of the situation began to dawn. "I never got those letters." Maca's mother had been completely against her relationships with women. It had even put a strain on her relationship with her father. But she never expected that they would keep letters from her.

"Oh, Cherie." Martine understood better now. "I'm so sorry." She put her arms around Maca and hugged her. She could sense that Maca was angry and sad at the same time. Maca could hear the distress in Martine's heartbeat and thought she was just as upset.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't have faith. I didn't believe."

Martine tried to console her. "It wasn't your fault, Maca. You can't blame yourself."

A knock at the door and Emily calling Martine stopped their conversation. Martine kissed Maca's forehead, rose from her sore knees and went to the door. She opened it and let Emily into the room.

"I'm glad you're up. James called. He said he tried to call you on your cell phone but you didn't answer. He wanted to make sure you remembered the game."

Martine slapped her own forehead. "The game! Oh my gosh! What time is it? 10:00 a.m. That's okay then; we've got a little time."

Maca wasn't sure what was going on. "The game?"

"You don't know? Of course you don't know. Today is Thursday. We always take the kids from the hospital, the ones who can handle the trip at least, to a Braves game when they play at home. Are you up for that?"

"That sounds fun. Sure I will go. Am I dressed appropriately?"

The two other women in the room looked over the tall Spaniard. She had on tight blue jeans that showed off all of her well-proportioned curves. The jeans were tucked into knee-high black boots that added two inches to her height. She had on a white tank top with a dark blue and white plaid shirt over that. The short sleeves of the plaid shirt were rolled up to reveal tanned and muscular biceps. The shirt was half opened and one side had come untucked while she was napping with Martine. Her brown hair was disheveled but somehow it added to the very sexy look that the 37-year-old doctor exhibited naturally.

Martine and Emily looked at each other and then back to the sexy doctor. "Oh yeah," the two women agreed. Martine suddenly became beet red and Emily laughed at her niece. Maca looked from the laughing aunt to the niece and saw the woman's color and her own cheeks flushed. Emily walked out of the room shaking her head and laughing. "Are you hungry, Cherie?" Emily called back to her niece as she headed down the stairs.

Both Martine and Maca answered "Starving," and they could hear Emily's laughter trail down the stairs.

"She?… You?… Me?… She meant you, didn't she?"

"I'm not sure anymore, Doctora Fernandez." Laughing, Martine walked over to her, smoothed the chestnut hair flowing over Maca's shoulders and looked into the laughing brown eyes. "She knows I've never called anyone that but you." Still laughing at her aunt's joke, she headed toward the bathroom. "I'm going to shower. You can use the bathroom in the hall if you need to freshen up."

Maca wandered into the other bathroom. This had been an interesting morning already. Her emotions were raw. There was so much to process. But there was still several questions unanswered: Why had Martine left Madrid in the first place? What did this rekindled friendship mean for her relationships in Spain? Esther? Vero? Her mother? She would have to ask her mother about those letters.

Maca ran her fingers through her hair and looked at herself in the mirror. That will have to do. She heard the shower turn on in the other bathroom and imagined the tall black haired woman nude, in the shower, water flowing over her. _Uff, I'd better stop that._

Maca pulled a small makeup bag from her backpack and reapplied her makeup. As she returned the bag, she heard the rattle of the pills she had to take and tried to remember if she had taken them today. She replayed her morning routine in the hotel and couldn't remember having taken them. She popped off the top and took out one of the small pills. She looked at it wondering how long before these wouldn't be enough, how long before she couldn't work anymore. There would come a day when she wouldn't be able to hold a scalpel, she wouldn't be able to walk, wouldn't be able to make love to Esther.

 _Mierda! I'm so confused._ She really was confused. She thought that she had made her decision and chosen Esther. But Esther wouldn't choose between Maca and Bea. Vero had made a choice and it wasn't Maca, she was going to work in a clinic in Catalina. Now that she had been reunited with Martine, she was grappling with the thought that they hadn't been given a choice. They had been ripped apart by circumstance and possibly Maca's mother, and now she was going to have to choose again: leave or stay. Stay in Atlanta and all the possibilities it offered, or go back to Madrid and all of the uncertainty it promised.

"You can't make all of those decisions in the bathroom."

"Que?" She turned to see Martine leaning on the door jam in a blue Braves t-shirt and very tight blue jeans. _Cute_ _ **and**_ _sexy_ added to Maca's whirling thoughts.

"You were thinking so hard that you didn't hear me calling you so I came to check on you." She walked into the bathroom and put her hands on Maca's shoulders. "Maca, you've only been here a few days. You're only going to be here for a few weeks. Then you're going back to Spain and back to Esther. Don't destroy all that you've done to rebuild your relationship with her."

"But she may not want me. She hasn't chosen. She is still seeing Bea."

"Perhaps she just wants to make sure that you are sure. You said you had been seeing Vero. Maybe she just wants to make sure you don't decide to go back to Vero. Maybe she sensed that there were still some loose ends."

"There aren't…well…there weren't."

"Uh huh and now there are? She just wants to know that you're not going to leave her again. When you go back to Spain, talk to her. Make the decision about your lives together."

"And what about you? What do you want?"

"Cherie, I **know** that I don't want to hurt you."

"Ladies!" Emily called from staircase. "Breakfast is ready!"

Martine smiled at Maca and hugged her. "Come on, we've got a ballgame to get to."

Maca pulled her bag off the counter and knocked the bottle of pills to the floor. They both reached for the bottle but Martine was quicker and picked up the bottle. She read the prescription and re-read it. "This is for…" she couldn't say the words. That would make it real.

Maca grabbed the bottle from her hand. "It's nothing." She turned back to the counter and stuffed the pills into her bag.

Martine stood behind the trembling woman and put her hands on Maca's arms. "Maca. Maca look at me." She gave her the tiniest shake. Maca looked into the mirror at the green eyes of the woman behind her. "Multiple Sclerosis?" Maca nodded and looked down at her bag trying to keep the tears from flowing. "How long have you known?"

Maca answered in a whisper, "About six months. It's still early. Claudia says that if I take these then more advanced symptoms might never develop." She prayed everyday that would be true.

"She's right. You _know_ she's right. It may never develop beyond where it has." Martine hugged her from behind and looked in the mirror at the trembling woman in her arms. "I know exactly what you need right now."

Maca looked up and saw mischief in the green eyes. "Oh? What would that be Doctora Monroe?" She couldn't help but smile.

"Cotton candy, blue, and plenty of it. And maybe a hotdog with the works." She gave her another hug. "Come on, Cherie. I see a foul ball with my name on it." She grabbed Maca's hand and pulled her out of the bathroom and down the stairs, picking up a small duffle bag filled with baseball gloves and Braves caps as they went.

When the two women reached the top of the grand staircase, Martine let go of Maca's hands and, with a wink, threw her leg over the rail and slid down the long curve.

Emily emerged from the dining room just as she neared the bottom. "Martine Marie Monroe! Are you **_trying_** to kill yourself!" Maca ran down the stairs with the duffle bag as Martine slid off the curved end of the rail.

"No. No ma'am."

Emily threw her dishtowel at the chastised woman. "Lord have mercy! You gave me a fright, girl!" She turned and stormed back into the kitchen as the two stunned women just watched. "Gosh-a-mighty! A 37-years-old surgeon, Rhodes Scholar, won the Neuhauser award as a first year resident, your daddy was an ambassador, your momma was Miss Georgia 1954 _and_ a third cousin to JFK; and your grandpa, God rest his soul, captured 30 Japanese soldiers and an island all by himself. You'd think that you would have better sense!"

They could hear Miss Annie ask what happened and the matron's tirade began all over again. "And bring me my dishtowel! Your breakfast is getting cold."

"Yes, ma'am!" Martine looked at Maca's shocked face and laughed. She linked their arms and pulled her into the kitchen. "Come on, Cherie. I'm hungry and you need cotton candy."

"Blue." Maca clarified.

"Absolutely!"

"Vale!"

The game had been the perfect remedy for both of them. Twelve children were brought from the hospital; wheelchairs, oxygen tanks and all. Several dozen doctors and nurses who volunteered their time came to help with the children and watch the Braves beat the Phillies, 6 to 3. The mascots paid several visits to the group, delighting the children.

Cotton candy did seem to be a cure-all. Children with cancer, MS, muscular dystrophy, and other physical ailments; cardiologists with heart failure; confused pediatricians far from home; stressed out doctors and nurses; even a chauffeur with PTSD; all forgot their problems and concentrated on the big question: Just how much blue cotton candy can a person fit in their mouth at one time? Maca decided that it was an unanswerable question; as soon as you stuffed in a handful, it would melt and another handful would be stuffed in its place.

Despite Martine's assurances, she was sure that there was blue all over her face; children looked at her and giggled as they passed. She had laughed constantly. She had caught a foul ball with one of the gloves that Martine handed out but gave it to the boy beside her. She ate hotdogs and peanuts. And she ate cotton candy, blue.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight – The Presentation and the Award Dinner**

It was Friday! It was Friday and Maca was terrified. Today she had to give her presentation about little Tomas, completely in English. After that, there was a dinner where she and the team from Hospital Central would get a little plaque from the AMA. She wondered if it was too late to return to Madrid. She hated giving speeches, and she sort of hated being the center of attention, which she thought was ironic for someone who was a type-A-take-charge-control-freak.

The presentation was at 2:00 p.m. Roberto picked her up at the hotel at noon and took her to the auditorium on Emory's campus. She ran a sound check, met a few of the professors and students and then gave the presentation. To Maca's shock and dismay two hundred and fifty people attended. According to the young, spectacled woman who was in charge of the AV equipment, word had gotten out how pretty Maca was and every male, and quite a few female, science majors and med students showed up. Some freshman and sophomore biology students got extra credit for attending. And a handful of doctors went because they actually wanted to hear about the procedure.

At 3:30 after shaking hands with nearly every young man who had attended, Roberto took her from the auditorium to the Eggleston ER to pick up Martine. The cardiologist seemed more tired than usual but Maca attributed it to the doctor's hay fever.

Maca made a stop to see Dr. Belter. She gave him a formal document that outlined her sclerosis and asked him to write a prescription for her medicine since she couldn't bring all that she needed to take during the trip. He wrote her the prescription and offhandedly asked her if she had said anything to Martine.

"Yes, we talked about it yesterday. She prescribed cotton candy," Maca answered.

"Ah, so that's why everyone kept giving you that vile stuff. I don't know how you got it all down."

"I do not think I did. Much of it ended up on my face and hands. Some of it got on my shirt. I even sat in some. But I got the point of what you all did yesterday. Those children are always thinking about their illness, their pills, what they can eat or what won't stay down. I have to think about my sclerosis every day when I take those pills. Every day I wonder when things will start to change, when I will change, when I will no longer be able to work. Yesterday, my biggest thought was how much cotton candy does it take to turn an entire body blue?"

Jimmy laughed at that. "So, how much does it take?"

"Four bags."

"Four! Holy mother of Willie Wonka, Maca! Where in god's name did you put four bags of cotton candy?"

"Everywhere!" She outlined her face and body with her hands as she pirouetted for him to inspect. She laughed at herself while he laughed and shook his head.

"Well I'm glad you had fun. I will see you tonight. I'm going to leave early so I can get my tux from the cleaners."

"Tux?"

"For tonight's dinner." Oh no, he thought to himself, we knew we were going to forget something. "We didn't tell you that it was a formal dinner?" Maca shook her head. "And you didn't bring anything with you that might be suitable." Maca shook her head again. James opened the door to his office and stuck his head out into the hall. "Martine Marie Monroe!" he bellowed into the treatment area.

The black hair and wide, green eyes appeared from inside a curtain. "Sir?"

"This girl needs a dress! Stat!"

"Oh?" Then the reality of the situation dawned. "Oohhh! Okay! I've got it taken care of."

He looked back at Maca. "She's got it taken care of," convinced that it would be.

"Claro. She's got it taken care of." Not quite as confident as he seemed to be. "Vale. Thank you, Dr. Belter."

"Call me Jimmy, please. Well I've got to run. I'll see you tonight. By the way, great job today. Everyone really enjoyed your presentation. You should do that more often."

Astounded, Maca thanked him but inwardly thought… _never_.

A little while later, Maca joined Martine at the central desk. The cardiologist had stopped for a shower after finishing with her last patient and was now on the phone, rubbing a towel over her wet hair. Maca waited until she closed her cell phone. "Hola." She said in a husky voice that made Martine's blood rush south and her cheeks flush. "That red shirt looks good on you."

"Hola, yourself. Thank you. I heard the presentation went really well." Martine guided her toward the wide doors of the ER.

"Dios mio! I was so nervous. But everyone was so nice and supportive. I don't understand why people say Americans are unpleasant. Everyone has been so sweet to me."

"It's our suthun charm, Cherie." Martine answered in a more exaggerated Southern twang. "We are all about makin' y'all feel at home, and fillin' you up with sweet tea and biscuits."

"And cotton candy." Maca nudged her shoulder into Martine.

"And cotton candy, blue."

"Blue. Claro."

The two women continued to laugh as they greeted Roberto and climbed into the freshly-washed black limo.

"Home, Igor!" Martine ordered jovially.

Roberto crouched into his humpbacked Igor stance, long arms dangling at his side. "Yes, Master." Roberto complied. "There is champagne beside you, Maca. Please help yourself." He closed the door and shuffled the distance to his driver's seat. The two women laughed at him and he winked at them through the rear-view mirror.

Maca poured two glasses as Martine took out her ringing cell phone. "Hello?... Hi.…Yes? Great…"

Maca took a sip of the fine champagne and moaned approvingly. She missed Martine's sideways glance but observed that the cardiologist neck and cheeks turned a special shade of red. She slid closer to Martine and leaned her head contentedly on the other woman's shoulder. Martine moved the phone to her other hand and wrapped her arm around Maca's shoulders. "Thank you so much. We'll be there in a few minutes."

Martine closed her cell phone and took the glass that Maca offered her. She took a sip and agreed with Maca that it was very nice. "It's all taken care of. No need to worry."

Maca wasn't worried. Maca was feeling wonderful. Black-tie dinners, limousines, awards, baseball and cotton candy, grits and buttered biscuits, boys with crushes, _girls_ with crushes, interns that were still useful after twelve hours. She was beginning to fall in love with Atlanta. She snuggled closer to Martine, who gave her shoulders a little squeeze and kissed the top of her head.

"You okay?" Martine inquired softly.

"Umhmm," and a nod was all Maca could manage. For that, she received another squeeze and another kiss on the head.

When they arrived at Rancho Lucia, Emily was in the driveway waiting for them, and she opened the door and helped the two women out of the car.

"They're already here," Emily informed them. "It looks like they've got everything you need. John took the boarders to Lenox Square Mall after lunch so you have the run of the house."

Martine guided Maca up the stairs, across the veranda and into the foyer. "They've got everything we need." Martine reassured the confused doctor.

"Um hmm. Claro." Not quite as certain as Martine seemed to be.

The house was eerily quiet without the guests and the library doors were closed but Maca could hear activity within. Emily gave three loud knocks on the door and waited outside until the doors were thrown open. As she passed through the double doors, Maca wondered if she had stepped into a department store. In the library, two women dressed in matching black dresses were straightening several racks of dresses. Another woman was opening the tops of shoeboxes. A tall, muscular and very bald man in black pants and a black turtleneck was unrolling a case that held combs and scissors on the desk and his well-coiffed partner was sorting through a series of make-up brushes. In the kitchen, she could hear someone using a coffee grinder. In the center of all this activity was the source of all the energy: Jane.

"Hello." Jane grabbed Maca's hand and shook it vigorously. Jane was about five feet four inches tall, red-headed, with pale blue eyes. She was dressed impeccably in a forest green business suit, and the way everyone waited on her order, Maca compared her to the Meryl Streep character in that 'Prada' movie. "You must be Dr. Fernandez. Welcome to America. And more immediately, welcome to Saks Fifth Avenue." They had brought the finest department store in the world to _her_. She loved America!

Jane made Maca pirouette. "Let me see. Hmmm. Okay. You have a good eye, Marty. You should come to work for me."

"You can't afford me." Martine had brought a bottle of water from the kitchen and found a quiet spot in her father's leather chair from which to observe.

"Don't be so sure. You haven't seen my bill."

The small bundle of energy took Maca's bag off her shoulder, pulled her into the center of the room and looked her up and down. She walked around the doctor tapping a finger to her chin. "Hmmm." She walked around Maca again and rose on her tiptoes to get a better look at Maca's eyes. "Okay."

She walked over to the rack on the left and removed two dresses, handing them to two assistants. From the second rack, she removed another dress and held that one out for the one who had emerged from the kitchen. A tray of espressos was quickly placed on a coffee table and the third assistant stood next to the others. Three elegant dresses: a red one, a black one, and a black and white one were displayed in front of Maca. Jane took an espresso from the tray and drank it like a shot of whiskey while she studied the reactions around the room.

Maca looked over the three dresses. De la Renta, Valentino, Halston; Maca had only imagined actresses wearing such beautiful dresses. She couldn't decide between them.

Jane took Maca's hesitation as disapproval and went through the catalog of dresses in her mind. Finally she went over to a zippered dress bag. She unzipped it and removed a dress the color of Maca's hair. Swarofski crystals ran along the top edge of the Brazilian brown dress and thin spaghetti straps let it drape naturally. Activity in the room stopped, Maca's breathing stopped. She wasn't sure it would fit but she imagined how the soft fabric would feel on her body and suddenly felt very warm inside. She exhaled.

Jane glanced at Martine. The water bottle was poised in midair, her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. Nothing moved except the green eyes, which shifted from the dress to Maca and back to the dress.

"That's it." Jane announced. That's the reaction a dress, and the woman who wore it, should generate.

Controlled chaos ensued. Maca, the dress and two of the assistants were ordered upstairs. The other assistant started to roll one of the dress racks to an exit at the rear of the library, which had a ramp instead of stairs. A movie company had built the ramp to move cameras and equipment into the house when they rented it to shoot a scene on the grand staircase. Now it was used by wheelchair-bound renters, and the occasional traveling department store.

Martine started to get more water from the kitchen but Jane stopped her. "And where are you going?" Martine raised her bottle to show that it was empty and Jane grabbed it and tossed it to another assistant who left to get Martine more water. Jane pulled her over to a rack that had been hidden by the others. It was empty except for one dress. "This one's for you."

Martine would have stopped to admire the long black dress but Jane didn't give her the time. Shooing everyone out of the room, Jane pulled the library doors together, turned, and ordered Martine to strip. Martine started to argue.

"You're a doctor. You know I've seen what you've got. Let's have it," the red-head insisted. Unusually bashful, the red outer shirt was unbuttoned and removed. Loafers were kicked off and black socks removed. Next, the blue jeans were slid to the floor and Martine was standing in the center of the library in only the ever-present tank top and a pair of purple undies. Her bruised knee was a matching purple and stood out against Martine's copper tan.

Jane walked around the tall woman, admiring, inspecting, and measuring. "Yes. It will do. Off with the rest." She removed the dress from the rack as Martine self-consciously removed her tank top and crossed her arms over her chest. As she walked around to Martine's front, she saw the reason Martine constantly kept her chest covered. A long straight scar ran down between her breasts. After twenty years and three operations, Martine was still self-conscious of the scar; it symbolized her weakness. Jane hesitated for only a moment, admiring the body as a whole, and lowered the dress so that Martine could step into it.

Martine wiggled as the silky fabric was drawn up her body. Jane circled around to her back and brought the halter top up to her neck, tying the long straps that would dangle down her back. The dress had once been worn by Kate Capshaw. The Saks buyer in Los Angeles had gotten it at an auction and Jane had negotiated for it with Martine in mind.

Once the dress was in place, Jane made another circle around the doctor. "Something's still not right." A last inspection and she wiggled her index finger at Martine's hips. "Let's have them."

Realizing what the small fireball wanted, she started to argue. "Now, Jane!" But the fireball usually got what she wanted, including a pair of purple panties.

Lines smooth now, she pushed Martine toward a full length tri-paneled mirror. "Look," she whispered to the doctor.

Martine turned slowly, examining the figure in the mirror. The long black dress was slit dangerously high. The halter top tied just over her collar bone and wrapped around her sides, just barely. The long straps dangled down her smooth back and ended at the small of her back, which was visible since the dress stopped about two inches below that. In as much as her front was completely concealed, her back was completely open. She loved it. "It's perfect," Martine purred.

"You look beautiful, Marty." Jane affirmed. The tall doctor turned and hugged the fireball. Finally, Jane was overwhelmed with emotion and patted Martine on the back and gave her a last little squeeze. "Okay, let's get you finished."

Martine continued to examine herself in the mirror as Jane went to open the library door and call her assistants. She missed the diminutive red-head wipe away a tear.

There were rumors among Martine's wide circle that she was very sick and she saw evidence that the rumors might be true. Jane looked at women, carefully, every day. Her eyes were trained to judge skin color and the condition of eyes and nails without making the client feel as if she was being inspected. So she noticed the doctor's blood shot eyes, the sunken cheeks, the dryness of the long black hair, the slightly yellow tinge of the manicured nails. Someone might see a tired, undernourished doctor; she saw the truth.

"Consuela! David!"

"Yes, ma'am! Coming!" They called back. A second later they appeared. Like an emergency room physician directing nurses, the fireball ordered a full work-up, picked up another espresso and downed it in one gulp. "Christina!" she yelled and a young blond girl with wide eyes and a perpetually shocked look appeared with fresh cups of steaming espresso.

Consuela was the mani-pedi girl; David did her hair. Fifteen minutes later, they made room for David's partner, Michel, who applied Martine's makeup. Fifty-five minutes after Martine walked into the house she was ready and looked like she was going to the Oscars.

Consuela went back upstairs to check on Maca's progress. A few minutes later she came down to tell them that the pediatrician was ready.

Emily and Miss Annie came out of the kitchen talking to each other just as Martine and Jane came out of the library. Annie saw Martine first and put a hand on Emily's arm to stop her. Emily looked inquisitively at Annie and got a nod that told her to look at Martine. The matron looked at her niece and stopped.

The cardiologist had on the long black dress that hugged her athletic form and accented her tall, straight lines. Her hair was pulled back to reveal a long, slender neck and a pair of emerald earrings that matched the color of her eyes. Long legs were made longer with a pair of black Manolo Blahniks. As Martine turned to show them the dress, both older women let out a series of Oohs and Ahhs. The smooth, tanned back was completely visible and the long thin straps of the halter top drew their eyes down the center of her back toward her shapely rear-end.

As Martine continued turning, Roberto and John came in from the veranda followed by the group of house guests carrying bags from their shopping spree. A wolf whistle sounded from the group. Roberto took off his black cap and ran his fingers through his wavy black hair. Speechless, he kept looking up and down his best friend's body.

Movement at the top of the grand staircase caught everyone's attention. The four attendants stood shoulder to shoulder at the top of the stairs waiting until they had the attention of the group below.

A silent nod from Jane signaled her team above. The two men in the center stepped apart to make an opening and Michel announced the pediatrician. "Mesdames et messieurs, Doctora Macarena Fernandez-Wilson." Maca stepped between them, enjoying the Hollywood moment. Every girl dreamed of walking down stairs like these, in a dress like this one, to an admiring crowd below and seeing in the center of that crowd someone with the unmistakable look of love in their eyes.

Sympathetic witnesses to the story unfolding around them, Roberto and Emily watched as Martine waited at the bottom of the stairs for Maca to descended.

The cardiologist took the moment to memorize every wisp of hair that flowed over Maca's shoulders and the way the light shined on the crystals that lined the top edge of the beautiful brown dress. _What was the name of that particular shade of brown?_ Martine wondered _. I'll have to ask Picasso when I see him._ She smiled when she saw that David had braided more of the Swarofski crystals into Maca's hair; it was as if she had just walked down out of the stars. To complete the heavenly vision, Martine noticed that the diamond bracelet matched the earrings that dangled from Maca's perfect ears. Miss Emily noticed one other piece of jewelry: a wedding ring on Maca's left hand.

At the bottom step, Martine reached out to take that left hand, oblivious of the silver ring, and leaned in to whisper in Maca's ear. "You are Aphrodite descended from the stars, Maca." The pediatrician blushed, which only added to her loveliness.

"You look beautiful yourself. That dress is scrumptious."

"Scrumptious, huh?" Martine shook her head and smiled.

Maca's lips came dangerously close to Martine's but continued to her ear. "That's the word Consuela used. And I agree with her. I could just eat you up," she whispered, warm breath flowing over a sensitive spot on Martine's neck.

Before Maca could comment on the blush of red on Martine's cheeks, everyone converged on the two elegant women. Pictures were taken with cell phones. More champagne appeared. The young, wide-eyed Christina appeared from the kitchen with another espresso for Jane but Martine took it from her and brought it to the small redhead who was standing by the library door quietly watching the excitement. She handed her the espresso and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

"Thank you." Martine said carefully, wanting to convey all of the emotions whisking around inside her.

"My pleasure, Marty," answered the bemused woman.

"Oh, so does that mean 'no bill'?" the taller woman winked at her.

"Not on your life," Jane deadpanned.

"You've got my card on record." Martine couldn't stop smiling. "You've made this night beautiful and that's worth every penny."

Roberto rushed them to the long black limousine and drove them down the flagstone drive while everyone waved and shouted "goodbye" and "have fun."

After all of the dresses, shoes, racks, mirrors and equipment was reloaded into the oversized, black Saks van, Emily gave Jane a grateful hug and handed her a thick envelope, which she didn't open until she got in the passenger seat next to David. As they drove back into downtown Atlanta, Jane opened the envelope and counted ten thousand dollars, which she distributed among the five assistants in the van.

Later that year, a nameless accountant going through credit card records never found a charge from Saks. But in July, a check from Saks Fifth Avenue–Atlanta arrived at the American Heart Association in honor of the late Dr. Martine Monroe's birthday; the check was for $50,000.

The food at the banquet was actually good, which surprised Martine. Everyone had a choice of grilled chicken or steak; each dinner also came with a skewer of grilled shrimp, fresh broccoli medley, perfectly prepared risotto, and cheesecake or Crème Brule for dessert. There were several types of wine to choose from and after a studious taste test, both doctors found the merlot to be the best. Maca's speech was short; she simply thanked everyone on behalf of her team and said how much she appreciated this trip since it introduced her to many great doctors and showed new practices that she could bring back to Madrid.

It surprised Maca that Martine was also getting an award. It hadn't been announced before the dinner, and out of respect, it wasn't mentioned at the dinner, but several doctors who had been involved in Martine's care knew: today was in fact Martine's last day as a doctor at Eggleston; today she was retiring. Jimmy and the hospital CEO, Dr. Barbara Stahl both wanted a way to show their appreciation for Martine's service to the hospital. They did so by presenting her with a ten year service award.

As she tends to do, Martine one-up'd them by introducing a new scholarship for medical students interested in cardiology with an endowment of $100,000 in honor of her parents. The final paperwork had been delivered to her office this morning. Six months later, her aunt added another $100,000; with the stipulation that the award name be shortened to the Monroe Fellowship and include Martine as the benefactor. Barbara and Jimmy were only too happy to comply.

After the awards were presented, the walls dividing the sectional room were pulled back to reveal a dance floor, an open bar, a DJ and a huge rotating crystal ball hanging from the ceiling. The lights dimmed and the music started: a waltz. Moans and laughter could be heard among the dinner guests. But deep within the music a drumbeat began and it grew louder. Then a piano joined in and then a guitar and the waltz started to fade as the disco continued to grow. All of a sudden the music stopped, everyone turned to the DJ to see why, and flash! Colored lights rotated around the dance floor, disco music shook the walls, and the crystal ball sent rays of color shooting around the room.

The song was _'Holiday'_. And a deep dark secret was about to be revealed: as a teenager, Maca had had a huge crush on Madonna. She had the lace gloves, black bodice, ankle boots and dangling cross earrings. And she had memorized every dance from every Madonna music video. She knew every move. And no one anywhere in the world knew that. Except Martine.

Martine looked at her, eye brows raised, grinning widely, and green eyes twinkling in the dancing lights. Maca looked at her with dread.

"No! Absolutamente no!"

"Oh come on! I know you still remember."

"No! I do not remember. I am too old and my knees will never do that move."

"Ah hah! You do remember! And Madonna's older than both of us and still doing those moves."

"Yo dice no! No puedo! I will not do it." Maca continued arguing in Spanish too rapid for Martine to follow.

Martine had one last argument. "I will buy you that new HP laptop that you want."

The offer made Maca stop. "Dios mio." She thought a moment. "Jacobo will want to eat his stethoscope if I show up with that." Nothing better than appealing to Maca's competitiveness. "Es espensivo," she challenged. It might be worth the embarrassment.

Martine pulled her cell phone out of the beaded black purse she brought with her. "I can call the store right now."

"The song is almost over." It turned out to be the extended version. "Dios mio." She looked at the dance floor and saw several other brave couples. "Vale." She stood up. "But you have to dance with me." She pulled the cardiologist out of her chair and onto the dance floor. Maca knew that Martine shared the same secret crush.

The two doctors were no longer in 2008. They were sixteen again, in their dorm room, beds pushed against the wall, a small television played MTV Espana. They had convinced the headmistress that the TV was necessary to stay current on world events and, since both girls were at the top of their class and Martine's father had recently made a substantial donation, she agreed. George Michael, Michael Jackson, Tina Turner, Gloria Estefan, Menudo, and Marky Mark could be heard throughout the night. But when Madonna videos played, all studying stopped and the girls sang and danced with the ambitious blond, hairbrushes for microphones.

 _You can turn this world around and bring back all of those happy days. Put your troubles down. It's time to celebrate._ Left, right, spin. _Let love shine, and we will find, a way to come together we can make things better. We need a holiday._ Clap, left, right, shuffle. _If we took a holiday, took some time to celebrate. Just one day out of life, it would be so nice. Oh yeah, oh yeah. Let's celebrate. We have got to get together._ Clap, right, left, spin, cross arms, sing to each other. _Holiday! Celebrate! Holiday! Celebrate!_ Raise arms, clap, raise arms, clap.

Since a good number of the doctors and nurses were also part of the MTV generation, most recognized the moves and circled around to watch them. Several other women joined them and created a kind of Madonna line dance. From the raised dais, Jimmy was covertly recording the two women with his Blackberry.

Madonna faded into The Weather Girls and everyone clapped and more dancers joined them. The Weather Girls faded into the Bee Gees and then into Justin Timberlake. The DJ did a great job of selecting songs from thirty years of dance music. More than one Eggleston employee looked at the dance floor and thought _'there is nothing more bizarre than seeing doctors and nurses in formalwear doing the Electric Slide or the Chicken Dance.'_

After about a half hour of fast and fun dance music, the DJ selected a slow song. The two women looked at each other, breathless, hearts pounding, and walked toward each other.

Maca took the offered hand and gently pulled. "Venga," she whispered. Hand-in-hand, with a free hand on a shoulder or waist, they were far enough apart that they could see each other. "It's like a prom, si?" Maca inquired.

"I don't know; I never went to one." Martine admitted.

"You didn't go in your other school?"

"Other school?"

"When you left Madrid we still had another year. You went to another school to finish, si?"

"No, I didn't."

"What happened? Why not?"

Not wanting to spoil the evening with talk or even the thought of the events that had separated them, Martine ignored the question. Maca noticed but didn't want to push too hard. Martine smiled seductively at Maca. "Let's make tonight our prom. Tonight is for you. I want it to be special."

"It is special. This whole week has been like a dream. You are like a dream. When I was a girl, I imagined our life would be like this: champagne, parties, designer dresses, and a grand hospital. Como Doctora Cinderella and her princessa." Martine smiled at the phrase; Maca had always known she would be a doctor. "Puis…you left without a word. No goodbye."

"I'm here now," Martine softly reassured her.

"For how long?"

"We have tonight. We have this month."

"And after that? Puis que?" the Spanish pediatrician asked.

"Je ne sais pas, Cherie?" the Creole cardiologist replied. The two women, faced with unanswered questions, pulled each other closer and danced, slowly, gently swaying. The lights, the people, the world dropped away and all that was left was bodies touching, arms holding tightly, one heart pounding steadily, and one heart failing.

As the slow music ended, Maca sensed that Martine was tired and asked if they could leave. They shared one last toast of champagne with Jimmy and his wife, said their goodbyes to several other doctors and walked to the waiting limousine, Martine leaning on the strong pediatrician. Roberto opened the door for them and gave Maca a questioning look of concern. "She works too hard," she concluded.

Roberto nodded in agreement. "Where to señora?" he asked, letting her make the choice for what would happen next.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine – Maca's Choice**

"Her place. The condo," Maca clarified. Roberto closed the door for them and Maca pulled the weary doctor into her arms. She sipped on a glass of the fine champagne as Martine drifted in and out of a dream about riding a wild horse.

When they arrived at the high-rise apartment building across from Piedmont Park, Roberto helped the two women out of the car and asked, "Shall I wait, señora?"

"Gracias, no, Roberto," she answered as she led Martine to the door.

He nodded. "Buenos noches, Maca." She turned to look at him, catching the significance of all that he had said and didn't say. He gave her a little bow, smiled tenderly at her and left.

Maca guided Martine into the foyer but didn't find Sam waiting for them. She thought for a moment about calling for him, but didn't want to disturb him. She asked for Martine's purse and unzipped it. Reaching her hand in, she felt a cell phone, a small wallet, a prescription bottle and then found the keys. She pulled out the keys, called the elevator and when it opened, she pulled Martine in and used the round key to take them to the 21st floor.

When she thought Martine wasn't looking, Maca peeked at the small brown bottle and recognized it has one her father carried with him constantly. The door opened and the women exited the elevator. Maca dropped the purse on the table by the door and guided Martine toward her bedroom.

"You're exhausted, Cariño. Let's get you to bed." At this point Maca was being maternal, almost doctorly but Martine thought otherwise and quickly revived.

"I'm okay. Let's sit for a while," Martine offered.

"Segura? Are you sure?" Maca questioned. Martine nodded and dropped onto the tan couch and kicked off her designer shoes. Maca gave in. "Okay. I'm going to get some water. Would you like something?"

"Water sounds great. Thanks. Have you seen my purse?" she asked, beginning to feel lightheaded and warm.

"I left it by the door. I'll get it." Maca offered.

"That's okay. I can get it."

"Sit, sit. You worked all day and partied all night. You must be tired."

Martine was exhausted; her body really didn't want to move from the couch, so she stopped arguing. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"De nada, Cariño." Maca followed Martine's lead and took off her shoes. She wiggled her toes to stretch them; she preferred her collection of boots to the expensive, but not too comfortable shoes.

By the time Maca retrieved the purse from the entry table and two bottles of water from the kitchen, Martine was fast asleep on the couch. She was curled on her side, her head resting on a red pillow. Maca set Martine's purse and a bottle of water on a segment of the artistic coffee table and began a self-guided tour of the condominium.

She wandered around the living room looking at the paintings and artwork displayed on the walls. Names of modern artists like Kandinsky, Picasso, and Miro were scattered around the equally modern living room. Down the hall toward the bedrooms, there were several small pieces by Georgia O'Keefe and a larger one by Frida Kahlo. She opened one door and found that it was a bedroom. In it were four watercolors by an artist named Steve Hanks. Maca noticed that he had a wonderful way of portraying women's bodies as they were touched by shadows and sunlight.

The last door she knew was Martine's bedroom and she hesitated to enter. She looked back toward the living room and saw that Martine was still asleep on the couch. She turned the knob and opened the door. Maca flipped on the light switch and lights recessed in the ceiling gave the room a warm, soft glow and shed just enough light for her to see around the room.

She stopped, amazed by the size and décor of the room, elegantly decorated in Martine's unique style. The room was the width of the whole apartment, as wide as the kitchen and living room together. _Huge_. To the left, one wall had a line of windows that looked out over the city. That wall, where there weren't windows, was painted white and vertical blinds could be drawn across the windows or gathered in the corner to reveal the city skyline.

Going clockwise around the room, the wall opposite the door was painted a light brown, the color of coffee ice cream. A huge bed was in the center of the wall and on either side was a matching nightstand. To the left of the bed, near the window, were a large palm tree with wide, green leaves; a comfortable chair a darker shade of brown; and a bronze floor lamp with a Tiffany shade. To the right of the bed was a nearly square bookcase, painted the same of brown as the chair. It had _some_ books on it but mostly it had old postcards, knick knacks, framed photographs and discoveries from Martine's travels around the world. Above the bed was a huge, antique map of the world.

The wall to Maca's right was painted white and was bare of any furniture. On this white wall were two doors, one near the corner of the brown wall and one near the corner close to her. Between these two doors, in a space of about fifteen feet, was a mural of Andalusian horses racing across the steppes, manes flying wildly. She had to look twice because if the horses could have moved just a few steps, it looked like they would be running past her. _Amazing_.

The near wall, opposite the bed, was painted a light, almost smoky shade of blue. The door she had just entered through was near the corner, near the mural. To her left were two pieces of furniture: another square bookcase with more, worldly knick knacks, and a desk that faced into the room and had an open and shining laptop. Beyond the desk were a matching comfy chair, palm tree and lamp that framed the broad wall of windows. On the wall behind the desk, an enormous Samsung flat-panel television was recessed into the wall. Currently, it was playing a screen saver that made it look like a huge tropical aquarium filled with saltwater fish, sea anemones, fancy seahorses, and living coral.

The blue wall and huge televised aquarium brightened the room; and the brown wall made the huge room more intimate. The wall of windows and the mural of horses gave the room a sense of openness and freedom. Maca had never been in a room that stirred up so many senses. _It was just like Martine_ , she thought. What caught her by surprise and made her halt was that she thought how much Esther would appreciate the room's ambience and life.

"It's so beautiful," Maca whispered into the room. She wanted to walk around the room and examine each item. She was sure the Tiffany lamps were really _Tiffany_ lamps. She wondered what Spanish explorer used that very map to circumnavigate the world. She wondered if she reached her hand out, would she feel the warm breath of the horses on the wall. "It's just like you," she whispered, thinking of the multifaceted woman asleep on the couch in the other room.

Something on the bookcase near the bed caught Maca's attention. On a shelf near the top was a wooden frame with the picture of two girls. They were in red field hockey uniforms standing with their arms on each other's shoulders. There was writing in careful script on the corner of the picture: _Mi niña Martine, La luz de mi amor, la luz de mi corazón. Te quiero, Maca._

"The light of my love," Maca read out loud. "The light of my heart." This had been their liturgy. This was the way two sixteen-year-old girls put their feelings into words. "You kept this all this time?" Maca asked the black-haired girl in the photograph incredulously. She picked up the framed photo and hugged it. She walked over to the desk and sat down in the brown leather chair, it seemed to fit her body perfectly. She stood the picture on the desk and studied it for a while.

It was the fall of 1987. They had just beaten St. Francis, another all-girls boarding school in Barcelona. Each of them had scored a point during the game so their coach took a picture of the smiling, inseparable roommates. A week later he gave them each a copy. Martine began joking about wanting an autograph from the field hockey superstar and, obliging, Maca took Martine's picture out of her hands and wrote the words they often said to each other. Martine read the inscription and hugged her tightly. They parted, each feeling a little shy. But before Maca could walk away, Martine grabbed Maca by the shoulders and gave her a close-mouthed kiss firmly on the lips. It was their first kiss. Maca punched Martine in the arm, smiled and linked their arms. They walked arm-in-arm, cross stepping over each other to the cafeteria for lunch. That night in their dorm room, Maca kissed Martine back; she had watched her brother kiss his girlfriend and had been practicing on her pillow whenever Martine took her showers. And so began their shy and tender love affair.

As she was getting up from the desk, she hit the mouse attached to the laptop and the screensaver disappeared and revealed a document. Maca wasn't usually the type to snoop but the heading on the page caught her eye: Last Will and Testament. The preamble was the only thing written, but it was enough to disclose that it was Martine's. Maca looked at the screen but didn't see the words. She blinked her eyes and refocused on the page: I, Martine Marie Monroe, of sound mind and body, do hereby…blah blah blah…my last will and testament.

Maca began to mentally examine her patient. The constant tiredness, fluctuations in body temperature, trouble breathing, and irregular heartbeats were symptoms that she had associated with over-working and springtime allergies. Maca picked up the photograph and clutched it to her chest, then set it back on the desk near the laptop. She left the bedroom and walked through the apartment to the coffee table. She picked up the small black purse, unzipped it, and removed the small brown bottle. She checked the prescription label and opened the top to check the pills inside. The hand holding the bottle began to tremble and she pulled the bottle to her chest trying to steady the emotions building up inside her.

She slowly sat down in a chair facing the couch and the sleeping woman. She propped her bare feet on the green block in front of her. Images began to play in her mind like a slide show. She had been a doctor long enough to recognize someone who was tying up loose ends. She wondered if she was just another loose end. She came to the conclusion that yes, she probably was.

Maca fished in the little purse for Martine's cell phone and called Roberto.

"Hey, Chica. Are you okay?" answered a sleepy, deep voice.

"Hola, Roberto. Soy Maca."

"Oh! Hi, Maca. Is everything alright? Is Martine okay?" Alarmed, he wondered why she was calling on the other woman's cell phone.

"She's asleep and I left my bag and my cell phone at Miss Emily's."

"Oh, okay. How can I help you?" asked Roberto.

"Tomorrow… well… later today, would you mind bringing my things from the hotel, please? I'm going to stay here."

"Sure, Maca. I can do that." Sensing a change in her mood, he asked gently "Are you okay?"

"Did you know that she has started writing her will?" She took his silence as confirmation. "How much time do we have?"

He hesitated, not sure whether to ease her pain or help her heal. "A few weeks." Like himself, Maca would have to go on after Martine left them and it wouldn't be easy but his honesty would help her begin dealing with the loss.

"Dios mio." She whispered the only words she could.

He couldn't tell if she was hurt or angry or sad. He decided that it was probably the former. "Maca?"

"Yes."

"She didn't want to hurt you. She has been looking for you for years. Honestly, she didn't expect to find you in time."

"I'm not hurt; I just wish she had been honest with me from the beginning. It feels like everyone is pretending and I'm the joke."

She had a right to be angry. "I'm sorry Maca. No one wanted to lie to you; we just were waiting for Martine to decide how and when to tell you herself. She wanted to share a moment of her life with you without you feeling sorry for her or mourning her before she had actually died. You have enjoyed yourself this week, yes?"

"Yes, very much," she had to admit.

"Would you have been so happy if you had been told what was happening to her when you arrived?"

"Probably not."

"No. You would have been sad, you would have concentrated on trying to find a cure when there is none, you would have tried to make things easy for her instead of living in the moments you have with her."

"I suppose you are right."

"Maca, Martine is my best friend. I have known her for a long time. All she has ever wanted was to be with you and to be happy. She thought that if you still felt something for her, perhaps she could find that happiness before it was too late."

"Yo entiendo. Gracias, Roberto."

"De nada, Maca. I will see you tomorrow."

Maca closed the phone and studied the figure across from her. "Vale. I want you to be happy too," she said to the sleeping woman. She looked at the clock on the cell phone in her hand. Esther would be at work. She flipped open the cell phone and dialed the long number.

"Hola?" answered Esther, not recognizing the number in the caller ID.

"Hola, Carino. Soy, Maca. Tienes uno minuto hableme?"

"Si, Maca. Tengo mucho minutos por tu. Estas bien?" The tone in Maca's voice worried Esther.

"Si. Pero…" Maca hesitated. She wasn't sure that their relationship would be able to take the request that Maca was about to make. So much has come between them and she was about to thrust one more obstacle on their tenuous romance. She took a deep breath and laid out her plan.

Esther listened intently, silent until Maca finished. When the line went quiet, Esther asked the first of two questions in her mind. "This is very important to you?"

"Si, mi amor, but not as important as you are. If you do not think this is a good idea, then I won't do it."

"That's giving me a lot of control. Maybe more than I want. What if I say no? Then you will resent me for keeping you from helping your friend."

"This affects both of us. I would like us to make this decision together."

"Before I answer, I have one more question."

"Si?"

"What if nothing happens; what if she doesn't die? Will you still come home?"

"My ticket is for three weeks from Sunday. She has already said that she only expects me to be here until then. I love you, Esther. I want to be with you, only you, for the rest of my life if you will have me."

"I guess I have things to decide as well," Esther realized. "Vale," she agreed. "We will both take these three weeks. When you come home, _if_ you come home, I will have my decision for you. Okay?"

"Okay." Maca agreed, not really sure she meant it. She hated being kept in limbo. "Thank you."

"Also, Maca, I know you want to help your friend. But take care of yourself as well. Because Maca…" Esther knew that she had to let some of her walls down too.

"Si, Carino?"

"Just to be clear, I **want** you to come home."

"Si, Carino." That was a good sign. "Te quiero mucho, Esther."

"Yo tambien, Maca. Call me whenever you can, okay? Besos, mi amor."

"Besos. Ciao, Esther." She heard the line on the end click.

Maca stood up and walked around, taking a moment to look out the window at the Atlanta night-time skyline. As with all of the people she had gotten to know so far, the city had a depth, a beauty and a spirit about it. There was history and there was the promise of opportunity. Had events in her life unfolded differently, she might have enjoyed living here.

Well, she was here now. Knowing what she now knew, she made a choice: she was going to give Martine that one happy month.


	10. Chapter 10

Maca went into Martine's bedroom and opened the doors on either side of the mural of horses. Through one door she found the master bathroom, the other door led to a walk-in closet. As she looked through a built-in set of dresser drawers, she found two tank tops and two pairs of shorts. She needed to get out of the beautiful gown and try to get some sleep. She also needed to get Martine off the couch and in bed, where she decided the tired woman would get better sleep.

She went into the master bathroom, removed the dress and hung it on a porcelain hook on the door. She put on a white tank top and a pair of blue running shorts. Then she began working her fingers through her braided hair, slowly removing the strings of crystals that Michel had woven into her long, chestnut hair. _Martine had said she looked like Aphrodite. Well maybe Aphrodite's older sister_ , Maca laughed with the image in the mirror. She put the crystals, the diamond earrings, and the diamond bracelet on the counter.

Her wedding ring twinkled in the light. She had promised herself that she would no longer remove it. Instead, she kissed it, thinking of Esther.

Maca picked up the other set of clothes and went back into the living room. Martine was in the middle of a dream and was moaning but Maca couldn't tell if the sleeping woman was having a good dream or a bad dream. She decided that it would be okay to try to wake her and move her to the bedroom.

In her sleep, Martine heard Maca calling her name. She seemed so far away. An image came into focus and Maca's brown eyes looked at her, concern evident.

"You know, don't you?" Martine heard her own voice ask. Maca nodded silently. "I'm not ready for you to know. Everything will change."

Maca tried to reassure her. "No. It will be okay. Now we can enjoy the time we have… together…" She didn't want to say the _time we have_ _left_. "…and when you need it, I can help you. You don't have to lie or hide from me any longer."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just didn't want you to worry or spend the time that's left trying to fix things. I just wanted to be happy, for once, for a little while."

"I understand. I really do." Maca admitted to herself that that was why she hasn't told Vero about her sclerosis. Vero might have stayed simply because Maca was sick and that wouldn't be a good enough reason for either of them. Taking a moment to think of Vero, she realized that both the cardiologist and the psychiatrist had joyful, passionate spirits – that's what attracted Maca to both of them. Their gorgeous, curvaceous, and very female bodies helped too.

Maca looked at the body stretched out on the couch. Wisps of Martine's black hair had come undone and fell over her face and her neck. The halter top of the slinky black dress started at the base of that long, slender neck and flowed down past perfectly sized breasts and showed off a flat, muscular stomach. Martine's shoulders and side were bare, and Maca's eyes followed the tanned lines to her hips. At the lowest possible point of decency, the dress wrapped around to the back and flowed down Martine's long, tanned legs. She suspected that Martine could have been Miss Georgia like her mother based on those legs only – they were the legs of a pin-up girl. The black dress had a slit along the side that started where Martine's legs started, where Martine's torso ended, where Martine's… Maca's eyes quickly continued down the slender legs to the long feet at the end. Maca had always thought her own feet were big. She wore the equivalent of an American size eight. But as girls, the roommates had quickly discovered that shoes were the one thing that they couldn't share – Martine's feet were at least two sizes longer.

Maca's eyes worked their way back up the legs and followed the curve of Martine's hips and breasts to the bare shoulder and black hair. And green eyes, open, watching her.

Martine smiled and, seeing Maca's cheeks and neck flush, she laughed a seductive, honey-butter laugh that sent tingles down Maca's body.

Maca walked across the red and gold rug, soft on her bare feet, and sat on the red block in front of the couch. She bent down to look into the seductive green eyes. In Spanish, she asked if she could help Martine get into bed. But in her sleepy fog, Martine's mental translator came up with "Can I take you to bed?"

Alarmed, she thought Maca had asked out of sympathy and she started batting away hand reaching for her, trying to help her sit up.

"Carino, esta bien. Solo puedo te ayudar. I am only trying to help you. Tranquila, tranquila." Maca urged her to be calm.

In the fog of sleep, Martine sat up and tried to stand but her legs wouldn't hold her and she sat back down. She heard Maca ask again if she would let her help, softly, pleading.

Not wanting to spoil the magical night, she gave in a little. "Will you untie me?" and she put out her hand for Maca to help her stand up and then on shaky legs, she turned and offered the back of the dress to Maca.

"Si." Maca untied the long straps while Martine held the front to keep it from falling. Then Maca removed the tortoise shell combs that held the thick black hair in place and used her fingers to comb out the long waves of thick black hair. It was such a sensual feeling that Martine's body instinctive reacted and she leaned back into Maca's arms.

Maca's arms wrapped around the long, slender body. Her lips kissed a muscular, soft-skinned shoulder, found a sensitive spot on the long neck, and another just behind an ear. A soft, warm breath in her ear sent tingles throughout Martine's body. She turned in the circle of Maca's arms, her own arms still folded over her chest holding up the dress, and they kissed. Lips pressed, tongues exploring, the taste of champagne mixing with the scent of Maca's Chanel perfume.

Wanting to be closer, Martine's arms unfolded and wrapped around Maca's neck. Maca's hands moved across the smooth back touching shoulders, spine, waist, and continued further down to the firm roundness still covered by the supple black dress. Realizing that there was nothing under the dress, Maca moaned and pulled the body in her hands closer.

Their lips parted and Martine moved her kisses to Maca's neck and bare shoulder. The thin straps were pushed off Maca's shoulders with soft fingertips. Kisses followed Maca's collar bone to a spot just above her breast. Maca put her hands on Martine's cheeks and lifted her face so that she could see into the green eyes filled with love and desire. Maca kissed her again. Emotion exploded in both women.

Hands touched everywhere at once: head, cheeks, necks, shoulders, arms, backs, rear ends, waists, stomachs, breasts, necks.

Lips touched everywhere at once: lips, lower lips, cheeks, chins, necks, shoulders, lips again.

Body against body they walked toward Martine's bedroom and the large, comfortable bed. As they reached the doorway, Maca pinned Martine against the doorpost. _The woman doesn't stay still long enough_ , she growled. _You need to let go of that dress or I may rip a $10,000 designer gown to shreds._ She stopped and looked in the cardiologist's eyes, which had taken on a darker green color, like Christmas holly. Maca gently grasped the hand Martine was using to hold up the halter top of her dress. She tried to move it away but Martine's hand wouldn't budge.

"Don't," Martine pleaded, still not wanting to reveal the truth to Maca.

"Cariño, te quiero." Maca took Martine's free hand and drew her further into the bedroom. "It is going to be alright. You can let go; I've got you."

As she walked into the bedroom, Martine saw the framed photograph on the desk.

Maca gazed at the photo. "The light of my love," she read out loud.

Looking at Maca, Martine replied "The light of my heart." She didn't have to read the words.

Maca looked at the woman in front of her. "I can't believe you kept this all this time." Martine nodded.

Beginning to understand the depth of feelings within each of them, Maca reached out and took Martine's hand and pulled her to the edge of the bed. She pulled Martine down and looked deeply into her eyes, no longer willing to wait.

The two women sat at the foot of the bed bathed in the smoky glow of the video aquarium. Maca couldn't keep her hands still and she touched Martine's cheek and ran the tip of her finger down the long, slender neck. She traced Martine's arm and pulled a trembling hand to her lips. She kissed the tip of each finger, kissed the tender palm, and traced Martine's loveline with her tongue, sending shivers throughout Martine's body. She kissed the inside of Martine's wrist and kissed a trail back up to the tender spot inside Martine's elbow. Sensitive nerve endings sent tingles throughout the cardiologist's body.

Maca's left hand held Martine's right hand, their fingers woven together. With her right hand, Maca touched the other hand holding the black dress to Martine's chest. Eyes pleaded, lips slightly opened curled into a smile. Martine's last wall began to crumble and she let go of the dress and touched the smiling lips with her index finger.

Brown eyes closed, enjoying the tender touch on her lower lip. Her lip parted, her tongue touched the fingertip gently, and then kissed the fingertip. A thumb traced her cheekbone and the fingertip moved down to her chin, pulling her, guiding her into another soft kiss. Hands lifted the white tank top over chestnut hair and discarded it on the floor at their feet.

Maca's hands and mouth moved over the bare skin in front of her, touching, kissing. Martine stood up in front of Maca; her body ached to be free of the black dress around her waist. If Maca noticed the scar that ran between the alert breasts, she didn't show it. With a seductive wiggle, the dress joined the tank top on the floor. Maca put her hands on the slender waist and pulled it toward her. Hands slid back and traced the firm roundness and then down the back of Martine's legs while she placed kisses around Martine's belly button. Her hands trailed back up Martine's legs and bottom and continued up her back as far as Maca's long arms could reach.

As Martine bent to kiss Maca's lips, her hands smoothed the chestnut hair and pulled it gently into a pony tail so she could see and touch and kiss the pediatrician's neck. As Maca's hands continued to explore Martine's body, the cardiologist pushed her back onto the bed. Maca let Martine slide off the blue jogging shorts and they were added to the pile at their feet. Martine started at Maca's toes and kissed her way along Maca's leg, kissing the knee, the inside of Maca's thigh, the outside of Maca's hip, the little scar where Maca's appendix had been removed, Maca's stomach, the space between Maca's breasts. She kissed one breast and Maca moaned in ecstasy. Using her tongue, she exerted more moans from the Spanish woman, whose hands were buried in her black hair. Maca grabbed Martine's ears and gently pulled them, bringing the desired mouth and tongue to waiting lips.

Maca slithered back so her legs no longer dangled off the foot of the bed and Martine joined her, two nude bodies side by side. Facing each other, heads propped on elbows, each one looking, touching, tracing fingertips along curves and elbows and breasts. Remembering, relearning. This was the way they spent their nights alone in their dorm room after all the studying and homework and music ended.

Martine knew every spot on Maca's body that when touched or kissed would make her moan. She knew every place to touch to make Maca's breath quicken. She knew the taste of Maca's body. She knew how to make Maca shudder and held her with strong arms as her body pleaded from the inside to be touched, to be kissed, to be relieved. When that release finally came, it seemed Maca's whole body disappeared and only the places where Martine touched existed.

Her breathing and her own heartbeat regular, Maca pulled a very sleepy Martine into a tight embrace. She listened to the irregular heartbeat of the woman in her arms: thumpthump pause, thumpthump pause, thump pause. The failing heart no longer responded to the electric stimulus from the pacemaker. The muscles just weren't strong enough, the nerves didn't respond.

She wasn't sure what tomorrow would bring, whether Martine would ever make love again, or play soccer, or dance and "vogue", or slide down the long banister of the grand staircase. Maca **_was_** sure that she would do everything it took to make these last few weeks the best of Martine's life.

Lying in Maca's strong embrace, Martine's sleeping dreams began to end. She no longer flowed in and out of consciousness, the world around her faded to black and she slept quietly.


	11. Chapter 11

Martine awoke to the smell of coffee drifting through the open bedroom door. She opened her eyes and saw Maca was still asleep. The Spaniard's chestnut hair flowed over her face, her legs were slightly curled, and her arms were wrapped around a thick pillow. The pediatrician had on one of Martine's white tank tops and a pair of her blue shorts. This was more than she could say for herself! She was nude except for the emerald earrings.

She laid there for a drowsy moment and then became alarmed when it occurred to her that since Maca was asleep in the bed beside her, who was making coffee?

The cardiologist quietly got up and walked around the bed to the doorway to see if she could determine who was in the kitchen. She went by the desk and noticed another white tank top and a pair of lime green shorts. She suspected that they were for her and quickly put them on. She also noticed that the picture of Maca and her at school had been put on the desk. She picked up the frame and looked at the two smiling girls.

She looked at the black hair teenager in the photo. "Idiot," she hissed. "If only you hadn't said anything. Then all of this might have turned out differently. You might have had a happy life. But you had to tell him, you had to flaunt it in his face. Idiot." She set the frame down and it fell over with a loud thump. She looked at Maca, who stirred but didn't wake.

Following the scent of coffee, she walked down the hall and into the foyer where she saw a rather large pile of luggage. To her left she saw Roberto in the kitchen cooking breakfast on the stove in the center island. Three glasses of orange juice, a plate of English muffins, and three bowls of fresh mixed fruit were already prepared. On the back left burner, bacon was just beginning to cook and a pan of potatoes was browning on the front burner. A carton of eggs was open on the counter. Roberto saw that Martine was watching him and smiled at her.

"Morning, Chica. How are you?"

"I'm good." She actually felt good. "Are you moving in?" she inquired, referring to the stack of luggage by the door.

"No. I'm making breakfast. Maca is moving in."

"Is she now?" Martine asked, surprised and confused.

"Yup. She called me about an hour after I dropped you off; asked me to bring her things from the hotel. I assumed she talked to you about it last night."

Martine shook her head. "No, no." She answered thoughtfully. She wasn't sure what had happened last night.

"I guess that when she figured out what was wrong, she made the decision to stay…"

Martine cut him off. "She figured out what?"

"That you were sick, that you were writing your will. She asked me how much time you had."

"What did you tell her?"

Softly, sadly, he answered her. "The truth, Chica. She was angry that you had lied to her but after we talked I think she understood why."

Thinking about the ramifications of what he told her, Martine walked to the cooking island where the bacon was popping and the potatoes were turning a golden brown. She didn't realize that she was so hungry. She took a cube of honeydew from one of the bowls. _Well, I_ _ **did**_ _wake up naked_ , she thought to herself. _And I don't remember moving from the couch. Maybe everything will be okay_. When she reached for a second piece of melon, Roberto swatted her hand with a wooden spoon.

"Ah ah. You wait for the love of your life. I bet she's hungry too."

Maca beat Martine to the answer. "You would win that bet, Roberto." Maca walked up behind Martine, hugged her and kissed her shoulder. "Morning, Cariño."

Martine, surprised by the display of affection, could only mouth 'morning' in return. She hugged the arms wrapped around her. Roberto wiggled his eyebrows at her and smiled.

Maca saw the play in his eyes and winked at him. "And good morning to you too, Berto. That smells wonderful." She peeked over Martine's shoulder at the steaming frying pans, and saw the bowls of fruit in front of Martine. She took an orange slice and popped it in her mouth.

"Hey, save that for breakfast." He wiggled the wooden spoon at her and she gave him an adorable pout, which only made him smile more.

"Ayie," he rolled his eyes at them. "What am I going to do with you two?"

"Feed us," they answered in unison. And they all laughed.

Roberto popped a cube of potato in his mouth and when he realized how hot it was, he swirled it around. When he could finally chew it, he calculated how much longer everything would take. "Okay, ten minutes. How do you want your eggs cooked, Maca?"

"Scrambled, por favor. I'm going to clean up. Call me when it's ready, vale?" He nodded at her as she gave Martine a quick squeeze and kissed the back of her neck. She started to go but turned back and took Martine by the hand. "Cariño, what are we going to do today? I'm not sure what to wear."

"What would you like to do? This is your vacation."

Maca turned and looked through the living room windows at the sunny day. "I would like to do something fun and outdoors."

Martine looked at Roberto with an unspoken question and he smiled and nodded. "I know just the thing," she answered. "Do you have something cool to wear like a pair of shorts? It's supposed to be 85 degrees today."

Maca nodded, reached around the cardiologist, and snatched another orange slice. Roberto waved his spoon at her again and Maca stuck her tongue out at him. "Yes, I have something."

They both watched her walk out of the kitchen; she always walked with a swagger, even when she was barefoot. The combination of disheveled chestnut hair, the form-hugging white tank top, blue shorts that stopped where Maca's long tanned legs began, and bare feet, made Roberto give a long whistle between his teeth.

Maca turned to look at him and he pointed his spoon at Martine who started to protest but blushed instead. Maca laughed at them and shook her head. "Muy mal. You two are muy mal." She was still laughing as she picked up a suitcase and a smaller bag that held her bathroom items and walked back down the hall. She paused for a moment to look at the self-portrait of Freda Kahlo and smiled. "We can do this, si?" she asked the sallow-looking woman. When no answer came, she frowned and continued down the hall.

She opened the door to the second bedroom and scanned the room, taking a moment to admire the nude paintings on the wall including one of a young woman that looked surprisingly familiar. _Yes, this will do_ , she thought to herself as she put the suitcase on the bed. She didn't want to crowd Martine but she did want to let her know that she wasn't going to be alone. Maca took out a pair of red shorts and a white, short sleeve cotton shirt. She added to the pile a pair of pink panties and a matching bra. She suspected her sneakers were in another suitcase. She grabbed the bag that held soap and shampoo and went to the hall bathroom.

Maca had heard people use the term before, and she had thought that they meant what she felt every time she and Vero had _shared_ showers. But she was alone and she still felt it: _The shower was a religious experience._ Most shower heads were mounted on the wall and the water flowed in an arc at a person's shoulders. Usually one had to duck to get their head wet. This shower's chrome water spout was mounted on the ceiling, and was about eight inches in diameter. Knobs on the inside wall of the shower controlled the temperature and pressure. Maca turned on the hot water and added some cold. Then she turned the third knob and the water came out in bigger droplets. Curious, she turned it further and the large drops came out in forceful pulses that would massage the bather. She adjusted it back just a little, removed her clothes and walked into the shower.

Standing in the center of the shower, she let the water rain on her, warm and soft like a tropical rainforest. She didn't know when she started crying or when she stopped. She washed; she shampooed her long brown hair; and she stood a while longer simply feeling the water flow over her head, her shoulders, her breasts and her body. Her breathing became deep and calm and her mind cleared of all thoughts and images – except one – and she smiled.

Maca dried herself off with a fluffy blue towel and wrapped it around her body so she could return to the bedroom. Added to her clothes on the bed she found a brightly multi-colored, two piece bathing suit. She assumed it was for her to wear, so she put on the swimsuit bottoms, which fit her perfect, and then put on the revealing top, but had a little trouble tying the back. She put on her red shorts and put her white shirt on over the bikini top.

When she checked herself in the mirror, she gave her reflection a wry smile. Her chestnut hair flowed over her shoulders and framed the smiling brown eyes. The white shirt was shear enough to let the colorful bikini top show through and accent her 'curves'. She buttoned only a few of the middle buttons and left the shirt untucked above the red denim shorts. She looked at the face in the mirror and was surprised to find that it seemed happy.

If she only thought about today, about this moment, then she _was_ happy. Thinking about the future scared her, thinking about the possibility of being alone scared her. But if she only thought of right now then she wasn't worried. In fact, she was twice in love and that made her happy. The two most important women in her adult life – the one she began it with and the one she hoped to spend the rest of her life with – loved her and she loved them. It didn't bother Maca that she could love two or even three women (if she counted Vero too) at the same time; she wasn't bothered by social custom or religion. What was important was to be loved and to give love. She loved being in love, she loved buying little gifts and creating special moments, she loved the intimacy of making love. Maca had a huge heart. Since she couldn't share the physical one with Martine, she'd at least share the emotional one and give the black-haired woman the thing she wanted most – Maca.

A soft knock on the door took Maca out of her reverie. She opened the door and Martine was standing there, orange juice in hand. She had dressed in a pair of cut off blue jean shorts, fringe curling from years of wear. Over that she had on a pale peach-colored tank top and a darker peach-colored button-up shirt with light blue butterflies on the pocket.

"Breakfast is ready if you are?" Martine inquired.

"I am ready, except I don't think I tied the top well enough. Would you help me?" Martine nodded and Maca turned around and unbuttoned the two buttons securing the white outer shirt. She pulled the shirt off her shoulders and let it fall to her hips to reveal the strings of the bikini and a kissably smooth back. An electric shock of desire rippled from Martine's neck down to her thighs. She knew that if she tried to move, she'd falter and possibly faint at Maca's feet. Maca turned to look at her, not sure why she hesitated, and when she saw the look in Martine's eyes, she chuckled. Which only added to Martine's embarrassment and she turned a vibrant shade of red.

Maca put a cool hand on Martine's chest and smiled. Teasing, she said, "Well at least we know it is still working." At that moment, with Maca's hand on her chest, Martine had more emotions going through her than she could count. But she decided that if Maca could make the best of the situation, she would too. She selected an emotion and smiled radiantly at Maca.

"Well, Cherie. How could it not? Your touch ignites me."

Now it was Maca's turn to blush. "Uff," Maca swooned. "You _are_ a Casanova." Their eyes locked on each other and Maca knew that underneath the flirting and playfulness, emotions were churning and swirling and swelling.

Martine looked in the large brown eyes and sensed that something had changed for Maca. Curious as to why, she started to ask, "Last night…" but hesitated, not sure exactly what to ask or how to ask it.

"Last night…?" Maca prompted.

Unable to formulate the question, Martine just shrugged and shook her head 'never mind'. She wasn't sure that it was a good idea to over-think the situation.

Seeing Martine's confusion, Maca wanted to help her understand and put her at ease. Looking into Martine's eyes, she tried to explain. "Until this week, I thought you left me; I thought you didn't want me. Last night Roberto helped me realized how much you loved me. You did a lot to make it so I could spend this time with you. And I realized how much I have missed you. I've compared every woman to you; I compare every kiss to your kisses, every smile to your smile. I judge how much every woman loves me by whether they have the look you have in your eyes. That look," she touched Martine's cheek. "For some reason, which I expect you will tell me when you are ready; we were robbed of our time together. If I can't have you for the rest of my life, then at least I will have you for the rest of…for whatever time we do have."

Roberto stuck his head out of the kitchen door. "Chicas! Breakfast is ready. Come on and eat so we can get upside down!"

"Tranquila, Martine. I am here, now." Maca hooked their arms together and pulled her to the kitchen but stopped when Roberto's words sunk in. "What does he mean 'get upside down'?" Martine smiled and wiggled her eyebrows, which didn't actually alleviate Maca's concern.

 _Six Flags over Atlanta_ has six different roller coasters, a parachute drop, a water log ride, and a ride where your body is strapped on horizontally and you go flying like Superman. Several of these flip you completely over as you speed along the track. Despite Maca's pleas and several warning signs, Martine insisted on experiencing as many thrill rides as possible.

They each got an electronic pass that allowed them to slip to the front of the long lines and the three friends wandered throughout the theme park riding rides, eating hamburgers and shakes, getting wet, getting sunburned, and laughing with each other. Roberto got the phone number of a pretty, young woman who was quicker than her friends to climb into the seat next to him when they rode the Cyclone.

A few men tried to approach Maca and Martine, but they politely explained that they were more interested in each other than in guys. When that seemed to encourage a particularly hairy man in polyester coaches' shorts and a t-shirt that read "Gun control is using both hands", Roberto had to step in and say they were with him. It wasn't until the stubborn and much sunburned man saw the usually concealed tattoo of the Marines logo on Roberto's left bicep, that he pounded Roberto on the back and shouted "hooyah!" Whenever they saw him sweating in the long lines, the two women would grab Roberto's hands and giggle, causing the scarlet man to shout "Semper Fi!" at them. That would only make the women giggle and hang onto Roberto even more.

The day had been filled with playfulness. The three friends talked, joked, laughed. They held hands or entwined arms as they walked through the park. They would take turns riding with each other and whenever Maca and Martine rode together, they would sit close together, hips touching, the desire to be near strong in both of them. Flirting was a constant among all three, with Roberto being the least able to keep his composure when the two exquisite women began to tempt him. He knew it was all play but his body couldn't help but respond to the beautiful bodies, twinkling eyes, and buttery laughter. Maca was really beginning to like the younger man and found that she was glad that he had been there for Martine when she hadn't been able to.

Maca wasn't jealous of Roberto; he loved and needed Martine as much as Martine loved and needed him. Maca _was_ angry at the gods: little-g gods, big-g God, whatever gods were in charge of fate, whatever god was in charge of their lives. They should have had hundreds of days like today, even thousands; instead they were going to get four weeks. _Mierda pasa,_ Maca concluded, but she wasn't content with that answer in the least.

A dark cloud settled over Maca. And as they found a grassy spot preparing to watch the evening fireworks, Roberto noticed that she no longer seemed to be having fun.

He was sitting on her left and Martine was on her right. Martine was beginning to show the effects of the sun and the exhilaration of the day; she had her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms were crossed on her knees and her head was resting on her arms while she waited for the fireworks to begin.

Roberto leaned into Maca and whispered in her ear, "Esta bien, Chica? Are you feeling okay?"

"Tonterías mias."

Having a good idea how she was feeling, he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?" but Maca shook her head. "Okay. But you know where to find me if you need to talk. I have some idea what you are going through and I'm a good listener."

"Gracias, Berto. I'm glad you are here – for her _and_ for me."

He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "I'm glad you're here too, Maca. I'm glad that you decided to stay."

"Did I have a choice?" she asked, more to herself than to him.

"We always have choices, Chica. You could have stayed angry when you had found out that we didn't tell you about her heart and you could have gone back to Madrid."

"I couldn't have done that, Berto. I owe her too much. I am who I am because of her. Even if she wasn't sick I would try to figure out some way to keep her in my life."

"Y tu esposa?" he asked in Spanish to make their conversation more private as people began to sit near them and wait for the fireworks.

"Esther does not know what she wants to do. She has said that she will take the time that I am here to think and make a decision. When I return to España, we will talk."

"That must be very difficult for you. I'm sorry."

"Thank you. I suppose right now I just need to concentrate on her," she looked at the black-haired woman who had fallen asleep. "She has asked for one thing – a chance to be happy. We all want that. I can give her that. It's the least I can do for her." She put her arm around the sleeping woman and pulled her closer. Sleepily, Martine leaned over and put her head on Maca's lap and slept while her friends watched the fireworks.

Wanting to give her the longest time to rest, Maca and Roberto waited until the park was closing before waking Martine. They sat and talked for about an hour, Maca rubbing gentle circles on Martine's back while she slept. But when they tried to wake her they found that she was feverish and wouldn't wake up.


	12. Chapter 12

Roberto flagged down a security guard driving by in a golf cart, who called an ambulance. The ambulance took Martine to Grady Hospital as the security guard took Roberto and Maca to Roberto's car. They raced to the hospital, oblivious of speed limits and stop signs. On the way to the hospital, Roberto handed Maca his phone and had her call Emily and Dr. Jimmy.

In the Grady Emergency Center, Martine was put in a room away from the other Saturday night patients and connected to a monitor that measured her temperature, blood pressure, pulse, and blood oxygen levels. An EKG was also connected to give the doctors a view of her heartbeats. Blood was drawn, reflexes were checked, and pupils were examined. And most importantly, fluids were injected.

Maca and Roberto watched the doctor and two nurses through the windows that circled the room. Curtains could have been pulled around the room had it been necessary, if for example the patient had a gun shot wound or a particularly gory accident, or if the patient had been a celebrity like Ted Turner or John Smoltz. A call from Jimmy to his colleague at Grady ensured the private space, which Jimmy entered about twenty minutes later. Maca watched him look over the readings; she could have been in there but felt it best to let the local doctors and nurses work; she also didn't want to leave Roberto alone.

Miss Emily and Annie arrived about ten minutes later; Emily was pale and haggard, and Annie was trying to be stoic but was clearly upset. The four of them let out a collective breath when Jimmy looked over at them and gave a 'thumbs up'. Emily started to cry with relief and Roberto put an arm around her and was having a hard time keeping his own tears from flowing.

Jimmy came out to talk to the worried group. "She's a stubborn one; she'll be fine. Y'all were out in the sun all day?" Maca and Roberto nodded. "Well, she's tired, a little dehydrated and has a gotten a sinus infection that's making it hard for her to breath. She gets those every year; she said that she took an antihistamine with dinner and _that_ in combination with the long day in the sun knocked her out."

"Can we see her?" Emily asked, everyone nodded that they were thinking the same question.

"Sure, but not for too long. We're going to put her upstairs for the night just to keep an eye on her and, if all goes well, she can go home tomorrow."

"Thanks Jimmy." Emily squeezed his arm in thanks, worry still in her eyes, and he patted her hand to say it would be alright – this time. Emily put her arm across the door and turned to the two younger people waiting to enter. She could control her anger but didn't try to hide it. "Let me tell you two something. Martine may want to pretend that she isn't sick, that her heart is strong and she is invincible. But I expected more from the two of you. Do you love her? Do you want her to stay with us?"

They answered in unison. "Yes, ma'am." "Si Señora."

"I don't expect you to chain her down, but I also don't expect you to let her spend all day in the sun and the Georgia heat."

"Yes, ma'am." "Si Señora."

"You may go in now."

"Thank you, Miss Emily." "Gracias, Señora." The chastised pair went to stand by the bed and visit with the tired patient.

Annie looked at Emily. "Em?" She looked into caring black eyes. "Breath or they're gonna be puttin' you next to the girl," she reminded her in her odd mixture of romantic French accent and rich southern drawl. Emily patted her arm and nodded, knowing Annie was right; she let out a long breath and they went in to see how Martine was doing.

Martine was in and out of an erratic sleep most of the night. She remembered seeing Jimmy, her aunt and Annie, and Roberto. She vaguely remembered seeing a tall, handsome black doctor in the emergency room, she noticed that he had eyes that twinkled and laughed, and wondered if he was new. She awakened when she was moved from the emergency room to her private room. Nurses kept waking her throughout the night to get temperature and blood pressure readings and to take a sample of blood four hours after she was admitted to verify that her system was leveling out.

What she remembered most was that every time she woke, the first face she saw was Maca's; sunburned, worried, with blood-shot eyes; sometimes her hair would be disheveled and sometimes it would be tied out of her face. She realized that Maca was probably getting as little sleep as she was. When Jimmy returned at 8:00 a.m., Martine asked if she could go home so that she could get some sleep. After reviewing her chart and her current readings, he agreed that she could go home by lunchtime; she saw Maca visibly sigh with relief.

Shortly after breakfast was brought in the sky turned gray and it began to rain; lightning and thunder rolling over the quiet city. Emily and Annie returned to see her after breakfast; Jimmy had called them earlier to reassure them and say that Martine was indeed going home. After a brief, whispered conversation between Martine and Emily, Emily announced that Martine would be going back to her condo and not to the estate.

It was clear to Maca that they had argued about this decision and although Martine won, she could see by Martine's face that she didn't enjoy quarrelling with her aunt. Martine's mother had died when she was just an infant and she had been sent to Emily in New Orleans; the independence that Martine usually demonstrated was most likely inherited not from her birth mother but from the strong, intelligent, self-determined woman who raised her. Emily understood Martine's need for privacy during Maca's visit, but she was worried about the coming weeks when Martine's condition would begin to deteriorate and she would need assistance. Would Maca be there? Would Maca be capable? She didn't know Maca well enough yet, so she didn't have an answer; she would have to rely on Martine's judgment.

So with fierce hugs and reassuring smiles, Martine went home to her condo with Maca and Roberto. They parked Roberto's black BMW in the sub-basement parking garage next to Martine's silver two-seater and rode the elevator up to Martine's floor. When the door slid open, Martine sighed and walked straight to her bedroom and flopped on the wide bed, other than when she had actually passed out, it was the first time she allowed herself to show any signs of being ill. Both Maca and Roberto understood that she gave them an important revelation – she trusted them. She trusted her aunt too, but around her aunt, she was always reminded that she was sick; she didn't want that memory forced on her all the time.

Maca and Roberto made themselves lunch, talked as they watched the rain, and occasionally checked on Martine. Maca checked her vital signs, trying not to disrupt the cardiologist's sleep. Late in the afternoon, Martine pulled Maca into her arms and Maca quickly fell asleep. Roberto peeked in on the pair and took it as a good sign; he went to the comfortable leather couch and took a nap, dreaming of rollercoasters and rain. The sounds of banging pots woke him and he saw a dark and starry night through the terrace doors. He investigated the sounds coming from the kitchen and discovered Martine dressed in shorts and a t-shirt opening a can of chicken noodle soup.

She looked up and smiled at him as he entered and then quickly frowned. "I'm starving!" she explained.

His growling stomach confirmed that he was too and he guided her to a stool on the opposite side of the center island. He knew this kitchen as well as she did and took over the preparation of dinner. He went to the double-wide refrigerator and removed a package of mozzarella and another package of Muenster cheese. He also took out a tub of Land o Lakes butter, a head of romaine lettuce, some grape tomatoes, a yellow bell pepper, and a small tub of Greek olives from the Publix deli. He added another can of soup to Martine's pot and a bag of mixed vegetables from the freezer. While he was preparing grilled cheese sandwiches with the mozzarella and Muenster, Martine got out three plates and three bowls. Roberto made a salad with the romaine, left over mozzarella, the tomatoes, the pepper, and the olives. He mixed a dressing of olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and Italian spices, and poured it over the salad, using his hands to mix all the items together. He sampled an olive and gave Martine one as well, pleased with himself when the flavor made her moan in culinary pleasure.

"That sounds interesting," Maca said as she walked into the kitchen.

Roberto offered her an olive and she made a similar sound, which both delighted and embarrassed the younger man. She noticed the sandwiches, the steaming soup, and the colorful salad, and thanked him for the wonderful feast. She walked around the counter and hugged Martine, taking a moment to covertly check her temperature and heart rate. Her temperature felt normal and her heartbeat seemed strong despite its customarily irregular pattern. When the grilled cheese sandwiches were ready, Roberto flipped them onto the three plates on the counter; he divided the salad and added that to the plate, and then ladled the soup into the bowls. The three friends sat at the counter enjoying the combination of flavors and when they all started to moan and sigh in delight, Martine began to giggle, which set off the other two until they were laughing but couldn't really remember why.

After dinner was cleaned up, Roberto made signs of leaving but Martine stopped him. They had all been having so much fun that she didn't want the weekend to end. Maca agreed and suggested they watch a movie. Popcorn was popped, a bottle of cabernet was opened, and an old slasher movie was found on the large television in the bedroom. Maca and Martine were propped up on pillows against the headboard, and Roberto stretched across the foot of the bed. Like a remake of Mystery Science Theater, the three friends commented on the show, talked to the characters, warning them not to open the door or get out of the baby blue Chevy Pinto. They laughed when blood spurted in directions opposite from what the two doctors knew would be correct. And laughed even more when an unsuspecting Roberto was startled by a toe on his back and fell off the bed. The slasher movie ended and an old thriller called "Death by Natural Causes" with Hal Holbrook came on. The suspenseful movie caught their attention for a while, and then Martine snuggled down and wrapped herself around Maca. Roberto began to snore softly and Maca turned down the volume and allowed herself to fall asleep with Martine in her arms and Roberto at their feet.


	13. Chapter 13

The following morning, Miss Emily walked into the bedroom and found the three of them there and smiled. The TV was on and they were all still dressed. It was clear they had fallen asleep watching one of Martine's thriller movies. She remembered what it had been like with her brothers when they were children in New Orleans. They lived in a small house near Tulane University. Her father was in the Marines during World War II and was stationed in the Pacific. Her mother, struggling on his small paycheck and what money she could earn from sewing or cleaning professors' homes, did her best to feed and clothe the three youngsters. With her busy working so much, the three children had found companionship and safety together. Many nights their mother would come in late at night and find her children all on her bed, snuggled together for warmth and closeness.

The vision of the three younger people brought tears along with the smile. Her own son was an architect in Los Angeles; he usually called once a month to inquire about her health and reassure her that he and his family were all well, but he seldom came to visit her in Atlanta. Both of her brothers were gone, her husband George was gone, and now Martine was… she was afraid to put solid thoughts or words to what was imminent – she didn't want to make it any more real than it was. She was beginning to feel lonely despite the fact that she lived in a house full of people because, with the exception of Miss Annie and John, they weren't _her_ people.

She looked at her watch – 8:15 a.m. She walked to the edge of the bed and touched Roberto on the shoulder. He awoke with a start and rolled off the bed. Looking at her glistening eyes, he popped his head up to check on the black-haired woman.

"She's okay," Emily reassured him. "We have an appointment with the lawyers this morning and I thought Maca was at the hospital."

"What time is it?" he asked groggily.

"8:15 a.m."

"Oh shit," he jumped up. "Maca," he called the pediatrician. "Maca wake up." She began to move. "Maca it is 8:15 and you have to be at Eggleston at 9:00. It's going to take us twenty minutes to get across town."

Maca became fully awake as she tried to do the math. She had twenty-five minutes to get ready to spend the day with another group of first year interns. She whispered in Martine's ear, "Cariño. Cariño, I have to get up and go to the hospital."

Martine's eyes opened and she pouted at the sunny day and the idea of being away from Maca. She just wanted to stay in bed and cuddle. She saw that her aunt, Roberto and Maca were all looking at her and she wondered why her aunt was here. Her brows furrowed in question and her aunt simply answered, "Lewis." He was her lawyer. And she remembered that she and Emily had an appointment with him this morning.

"Oh, yeah. Okay. I'm up. " She sat up and freed Maca's arms but when the pediatrician tried to get out of bed, she stopped her with a grasp of her long fingers. Maca looked at her questioningly and got a look that said 'wait a second'. Martine looked at her aunt, dressed in a light blue skirt suit that highlighted her blue eyes and graying hair. "We'll be ready in a bit."

Getting the hint, Emily grabbed Roberto by the arm and pulled him toward the door. "Come on, son, I bet you're hungry. I think we have time to feed you." Roberto allowed himself to be pulled to the kitchen, smiling and of course, hungry.

Maca laughed as she watched them go until she felt a pull on her hand. She looked over at Martine, who had a serious look on her face. "Que pasa, Cariño? Estas bien?"

"Yes, I'm alright. I just wanted to say thank you. You've been here a week and it has been wonderful."

"You spent the weekend in the hospital, Martine. It cannot have been _that_ wonderful."

"It was only one night, and as I remember, you were _there_ too. Really, Maca, everyday that you have been here has been wonderful."

"Cariño, thank you, really. But you have a wonderful family and friends who really care about you, a great job that you do exceptionally well, you have a beautiful apartment with beautiful paintings – I especially like the one of you in the other bedroom." That made Martine's cheeks flush, very few people realized that the black-haired nude was her. "It seems like you have a great life, my being here can't possibly make it that much better."

 _So now she's playing Clarence the Angel too; I've had a wonderful life so I'm supposed to be content._ "Well you have," Martine answered harshly. It sounded almost angry and that confused Maca.

"Okay," Maca didn't want to push too hard; Martine would talk to her when she was ready. _No_ , she thought, _this weekend showed me just how fragile she is, even if she's trying to hide it. We may not have time to wait for her to figure out how to tell me_. "No, it's not okay. I don't understand, Martine. I need you to tell me what this is all about?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you so unhappy?" Maca feared the worst.

Martine opened her mouth like she was going to begin but couldn't find the words. She simply shook her head and shrugged.

"Okay, then tell me why you left school? Why didn't you finish? What is going on with your heart? And what are you still trying to keep from me? Tell me something."

Martine couldn't look at her, couldn't answer her, and couldn't make it real. She could only look at her lap.

"Joder, Martine!" Maca's fear and confusion turned to anger. "Why won't you be honest with me?" Maca got up and started to leave the room.

"Maca?" Martine pleaded.

Maca turned back. "Que? Tu hablame ahora?" Silence answered her. "Mierda!" She turned again.

"Maca wait, please." But Maca was already out of the room and down the hall. She didn't follow; she couldn't move; she didn't believe that Maca had actually left until she heard the ding of the elevator.

Emily came in a moment later and gave Martine a sad look. "It's okay to tell her."

"She won't understand."

"She just might understand. She has a father too."

"She blames me for leaving her."

"She's smarter than that. She doesn't know what happened because you haven't told her yet. Why won't you tell her what happened…what he did to you?"

"It wasn't his fault! It was mine. I should have never thrown it in his face."

" _You're_ smarter than that. It's time you see the truth too."

"I do. Every night." Emily gave her a confused look. Martine clarified for her, "Every night I dream of that day, I see him, and I see how angry he was. And then I see him on the ground, dead, his eyes empty but still looking at me and I know I killed him."

Emily walked over to the trembling woman. "Listen very carefully to me."

"NO!" Martine cut her aunt off. "You don't know; there's nothing you can say."

"I do know," Emily whispered.

"What?" Martine was still agitated.

"I do know," her aunt repeated. "I know because he treated me the same way when he found out about me."

"Found out **what** about you?" Martine asked, not getting the obvious.

"The first time he was sent to Spain, I was spending the summer in Paris. I had a little flat on the Left Bank and found a job as a waitress. I started a relationship with a culinary student who was working at the café at night. When her money ran out, I asked her to move in with me and we had the most magical summer together." Emily paused, remembering picnics in the Tuilleries, hours wandering around the Louvre museum, nights in packed bohemian bars.

"Her?" Martine asked. Emily nodded and smiled as she saw surprise, followed by comprehension, then questions, then concern pass over Martine's face like a movie. "What happened?"

"One day your father thought he'd surprise me with a visit. We were coming in after a party and we were being…um…frisky with each other. He was waiting on the stairs and saw us. He started yelling as soon as he saw us, spouting garbage about God, morality, depravity; I was too shocked, I never imagined he felt that way. When I tried to argue with him, he told me that he would tell our parents. When I asked him not to because I was in love with her, he slapped me across the face and told me never to say that again."

"He slapped you?" Incredulous, Martine couldn't imagine anyone hitting her strong, beautiful aunt and she grew angry at a man who had been dead for nearly twenty years. "What did you do?"

"I tried to walk away from him. I stopped when he asked me how I could be in love with a black woman, only he wasn't as polite. You see, he wasn't sure what made him angrier: that she was a woman or that she was black. I couldn't take anymore and I pushed him out of the door and locked him out." She looked at her captivated niece who was beginning to see her aunt in new light, with new understanding. "I tried to push him out of our lives and pretend he never came and said those awful things but it was too late. It was all so new to both of us and his words started digging into our happiness, fouling it with bile. When it was time for me to come back home, we promised to write each other, and we did for a while. But the letters got farther and farther apart until finally they stopped. My last letter was returned unopened; she had moved and didn't leave a forwarding address. When I got back home to New Orleans, I tried to be the proper southern girl and get married. George was sweet and he was my best friend, but I never loved anyone like I loved her."

Martine nodded; she understood that kind of intense love that lasts over time and distance.

"When you asked us to come here and live at Rancho Lucia, I spent a while looking for her – she grew up outside of Atlanta – and I wondered if she had returned."

"Did you ever find her?" Martine asked, engrossed in the story

"I did." Emily answered. "A few years after your uncle George died, some friends invited me to try a soul food restaurant that had just gotten a four-star rating from the critic at the _Atlanta Constitution_. We drove out to Stone Mountain one night and had the best red beans and rice you'll ever eat."

"Not better than Annie's!" Martine defended.

Emily smiled, patient with her obtuse niece. "No, not better than Annie's." After a dramatic pause, Emily continued. "We enjoyed it so much that the chef came out to thank us and there she was, after thirty years she looked the same, she smiled the same, she laughed the same. I wasn't going to let her out of my life again. I immediately invited her to live with me, work with me, be with me, anything to get her to stay. She had two teenage sons and I said bring them too. Your cousin Paul didn't know exactly what was going on but after a while he started to guess. When he graduated from Georgia Tech, he took a job in Sacramento; I think it was to get away from us."

"So where is she now?" Martine wasn't getting what Emily was trying to tell her because she didn't see the obvious in front of her, it was so far from what she thought about her aunt that for nearly ten years it had been right in front of her but she couldn't see it.

"Making breakfast."

"Huh?" Martine looked at her aunt, brows pinched; still not seeing what had been right in front of her all along. Emily had been starting to worry about her niece's mental facilities – she couldn't imagine the puzzle would be that hard to solve. "Jesus!" Ah hah, she's got it. "Wait! You and…Annie?" Emily nodded. "But y'all don't sleep together; you don't kiss; hell, I don't think I've ever seen you touch! You two don't act like you're together."

"We've been through a lot." Emily sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about their choices. "We decided that it would be easier if no one suspected, for the business, for our families, for the kids."

"That's crap!" Martine was visibly shaking she was so angry. "Daddy's dead, Grandpa and Grandma Monroe are dead, and Paul is in California with his own family. There's no one to hide from. Christ! It's 2008 – no one cares anymore!"

"Your daddy cared; he threatened to tell our parents and have me disowned. My daddy cared; who do you think taught your father? We had been taught that it was wrong, and those lessons stay with a person. And what about the B&B?"

"What about it? There's enough money in the account that we could close the business today and all of you could live comfortably for the rest of your lives."

"And Roberto?" Emily knew some of Martine's plans for her rather large amount of assets.

"Of course him too." Martine took Emily's hands in hers and studied the older woman's blue eyes, trying to see all that she had hidden for so long. "Auntie Em." They smiled at their private joke. "I'm sorry for what he did to you. And me. He's taken so much away from us. But he's gone and we both have a chance to be who we really are now. You need to take that chance for you and for Annie; just like I need to take the chance with Maca. I may only have a moment, but I want that moment to be with her."

"Then you need to tell her."

"I will."

"When?"

Martine pouted at her aunt, knowing her hand had been called. "Tonight. Okay?"

"Okay, sweetie." Emily hugged the tall woman. "Now, come on and get ready. I'll call Lewis and tell him we'll be late and find you something for breakfast."

"Coffee!" Martine called back as she walked into her bathroom.

"Only if you have decaf." Emily called back as she headed for the kitchen; she didn't see it but she knew that her niece was scowling at her.


	14. Chapter 14

"It started when you gave me that picture. I hadn't seen my father at all that school year. But he surprised me when he came just before spring break. He picked me up to take me to dinner with him and I was so excited that I showed it to him. That was my first mistake. I had always assumed he knew about me. I never talked about boys. I had posters of Charlie's Angels and the Bionic Woman on my bedroom wall. It was such a fuss trying to get me in a dress to go to the state dinners that he stopped taking me. At dinner, I showed him the picture. I told him that I was going to marry you and we were going to be doctors at St. Jude's Hospital and save children's lives." Maca smiled at the image. Martine had always known she wanted to be a doctor.

Martine was standing at the edge of the dock looking out over the lake at the red and yellow sunset. Maca was seated on the old wooden bench, surprised that it was still there. Roberto had basically kidnapped her from the hospital after her shift and taken her to the estate where Martine waited. As angry as Maca was about being brought there without her consent and frustrated about Martine's silence, she was more interested in getting answers. So she walked down the wooden dock to the tall, black-haired woman waiting for her. She sat on the bench and waited for the explanations to begin.

Martine started at the beginning, when they met. _How excited she was when she found out that they would be roommates and that they both wanted to be doctors. She re-lived the study sessions, the friendly competition to get the best grades, dancing with Madonna videos, and the short-lived cooking class. She described how she felt the first time she saw Maca in the red bathing suit that was the uniform of the swim team._

 _And she recalled the first time she realized that Maca was beginning to feel the same way about her. It had been on Maca's seventeenth birthday on September 21st, 1987. There had been a party with vanilla cake and chocolate icing. Martine had written 'Happy Birthday Maca' in bright yellow frosting and stuck seventeen red candles in a circle around the squiggly words. She carried it out of the kitchen as the other girls and teachers sang 'Felice Cumpleanos'. When Maca closed her eyes and blew out the candles, Martine asked her what she had wished for. Maca looked at her with a dreamy look and Martine blushed. Then Maca spent the rest of the night seemingly avoiding Martine while all the girls and all the female teachers ate cake, drank punch and danced with each other. Late in the evening Martine could no longer take being ignored by Maca and started to leave but a song came on that made her stop at the doorway and turn around. It was 'Into the Night' by Benny Mardones and it was the song that Martine always played when she was thinking of Maca._

 _Maca walked into the center of the room and simply waited. Martine started to object, feeling exposed in front of the other girls and teachers, but Maca continued to stand there waiting for her. Martine knew that if Maca had that much courage to stand there in front of everyone and expect to be danced with during this very revealing song, then she would have the courage to meet her on the dance floor._

 _They stood in their waltz pose, backs straight, arms stiff, the teachers wouldn't have allowed anything closer, and began to move with the music. "She's just sixteen years old, leave her alone they say. Separated by fools who don't what love is yet. But I want you to know, if I could fly I'd pick you up and take you into the night and show you the love like you've never seen, ever seen."_

 _Other girls joined them on the dance floor; the song was a favorite among nearly all the girls who had dreamed of being swept off their feet by handsome princes. For four minutes the two girls danced, they looked in each other's eyes, hands got sweaty and teeth got dry from smiling, but neither noticed. Teachers watched leniently, they had seen this kind of crush before and knew that once the girls were out in the real world with adoring men falling at their feet, their feelings would be forgotten. At the end of the song, the athletic director noticed the time and called an end to the party so the field hockey team could get a good night's sleep – they had to play St. Francis the next day._

 _That night, the two girls pushed their beds close together and spent the night talking about what it would be like to be doctors in the same hospital, sharing a flat in Madrid, hiring a cook, and selecting a nanny to watch their kids. Just before sunrise, as Maca fell asleep, she reached her arm out across the gap between their beds and took Martine's hand. They slept, hands clasped across the gap that divided them, for about two hours before their alarm went off. It was later that day, during the game against St. Francis that both girls scored a goal and had their picture taken. It was on that picture a week later that Maca wrote the words she had been feeling since her birthday party. Six months later, it was that picture that Martine proudly showed her father, unaware that he had been brought up to hate anything that didn't fit into his father's image of a Republican and moral America._

"He was shocked and he started to get angry. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out of the restaurant. He called for his car and drove us to the airport. Before I knew what was happening, we were on a plane to Atlanta, to here. I asked if I could call you but he told me that I was never to speak to you or about you again or he would whip me. I had never seen him like that. I never knew he could **_be_** like that." Tears started streaming down Martine's cheek.

"He brought me here to Rancho Lucia. When we got here, I ran down here to the lake trying to get away from him, but he followed me and he started to drag me back to the house. He told me that he would never let me leave. I would learn to be a proper woman or I would stay locked in the house for the rest of my life; I wouldn't embarrass him by being a homosexual. I yelled at him and tried to get away from him. I told him that he wouldn't keep me locked up, I was going to go back to Spain and we were going to get married. Somewhere along the way he had picked up a riding crop. When he heard me tell him that we were going to get married, he began to beat me with it." She touched her hand to her cheek, re-living the moment.

"I finally pushed him away and I ran back up to the stables and jumped on one of the horses. He followed me on another horse. I looked back to see him chasing me, beating the horse with that same whip, trying to catch up to me. I did everything I could to make the horse I was on go faster; I even prayed to God to help me get away from him. I looked back to see if he was still following me and then things started going in slow motion, like in the movies. His horse stepped in a rabbit hole and broke its leg. It tripped and my father fell off but the horse rolled over him, crushing him. My father was pinned under the horse. I ran back to him and begged him to help me get the horse off of him. I told him I was sorry and I would be a good girl. He just kept looking at me."

"I tried to push the horse off of him but it panicked and kicked me in the chest; it broke three ribs, and one of them punctured my left lung and I passed out. Roberto's father was the horse trainer at the time. He found us. I woke up in the hospital three days later and they told me that my father was dead, he had broken his neck in the fall, but I think already knew that. Even the horse had to be shot. Emily and George came up from New Orleans to take care of me. I didn't go to my father's funeral. I came down here to the lake and cried. I yelled at God. I didn't understand why He made me this way if it was going to kill my father."

"Martine," Maca called softly to her. When the cardiologist didn't turn around, she asked again. "Martine, look at me. Please." When Martine didn't turn around but continued to look out over the lake at the red and purple sky, Maca continued anyway. "You did not kill your father. Your being gay did not kill him. Your prayer did not kill him."

Martine continued to stand where she was, her mind lost in the past. "I'm trying to understand that… now. I didn't understand it then. I was having such a hard time dealing with everything: losing you, losing my father. I couldn't eat, I couldn't study; I just stayed in bed crying or looking at the ceiling. Emily sent me to a center where I could get some help and work things out. I was there for six months. I wrote to you when I got out. I sent letters to the school and to your father's vineyard. But if your mother kept them from you then you never knew what happened." Martine stopped, weary from reliving all of the emotions that had swelled in her that year so long ago.

"What happened to your heart?" asked Maca, wanting all her questions answered.

"The doctors thought it might have been from the horse's kick; it's possible that it was failing before and they just hadn't had a reason to look. They noticed some strange readings in my ECG in the emergency room. Jimmy started out as a cardiologist and he was working in the ER at the time. He ran some tests and found that it was going to need to be replaced. They found a donor shortly after I got out of the center. Three years ago, the replacement heart started to fail too. We tried steroids, a pacemaker, even meditation, but nothing worked. This is heart number three," she touched her chest. "But lately my body has been trying to reject it. We've controlled it for a while with medication but that's not working anymore either. Now I'm out of options and running out of time. They don't give these things out easily and I practically sold my soul for this one. Anyway, I'd probably reject another one too."

"So now you're resigned to dying? You're okay with that?" Maca wasn't sure why but she was beginning to get angry.

"I'm not okay with anything… especially now that I've found you again. I've spent years trying to find a way to help myself. I couldn't, I can't."

Maca went over to the woman standing on the edge of the floating dock and turned her around forcefully. "So you brought me here to watch you die!"

"No."

"Then what?" Maca was shouting now, the futility of the situation made her frustrated. _Where was Martine's fighting spirit?_ She kept asking herself. "Why did you bring me here?" She shook Martine.

"I told you – I just want a chance to be happy. We were robbed of our lives. I want mine back, even if it's just for a little while."

"But we've lived. I have three children, I have Esther. Look at all you have done, look at all the people you have saved."

Martine shook off Maca's hands and walked to the other corner of the dock. "Yeah, everyone but myself. And none of it matters without you. I've been in love with you my whole life. All I have tried to do is to find a cure so that I could live long enough to find you. Now I've found _you_ but not the cure. And I'm out of time." Martine paused and looked into brown eyes that were angry and frustrated. She shook her head. "Fine, you're right, you have a life. You have Esther and your kids, and I should have never bothered you; I never should have brought you here. I…I'm sorry." She stormed back up the dock, away from Maca, trying to get away from the shame that was growing within her, trying to get away from the years of loss and pain. Tears fell unchecked.

Maca watched her walk away.

Then she realized what Martine was doing, she realized that Martine was walking away from her – perhaps for the last time. In the span of a heartbeat, Maca knew that she couldn't let that happen. They had been robbed of their time together, and although _she_ had moved on, Martine never did, Martine still loved her. Maca had spent twenty years believing that Martine didn't love her; and now Maca understood that everything that Martine had accomplished with her life was about trying to find a cure for herself so that she could spend some part of her life loving Maca.

The last of Maca's walls came down: the wall of lies that she built when she told Esther that she cared about Martine and wanted to spend this time with her, but that she wasn't in love with Martine. It was a lie; she knew it was a lie when she spoke to Esther after the award dinner. Maca loved both of them, differently but equally. And she just realized that Esther had given her permission to feel what she felt, do what she wanted to do, and then… go home and back to Esther.

Maca ran back up the pier.

Her boots echoed on the wood planks, and then thumped on the dirt pathway, and slapped every other stair on the back staircase of the veranda. She caught up to Martine as she was passing through the doorway into the kitchen. Emily and Annie were at the stove checking the pasta and spaghetti sauce that would be dinner for the family and guests. They heard the screen door open, Maca's footsteps on the porch, and turned to see who was coming in.

"Where are you going?" They heard Maca ask, out of breath.

Martine shouted back at her, "I'm just going. I'll get out of your life and you can go back to Esther and your kids. Roberto will take you wherever you want to go." She stopped in the doorway, holding the screen door open. She didn't notice her aunt and Annie watching them from across the room.

"So, just like that you're going to give up?" Maca yelled back.

"What do you know? I've struggled with this for twenty years! Thinking I was to blame for my father's death, trying to find you all over the world, trying to find a cure for myself so that I could live long enough just to tell you that I love you. All for what? A few days, a few weeks? To watch you walk away now? I can't do that!"

"Then turn around." Maca asked softly.

Martine spun around, still hurt. "What?" she snapped.

"I love you too." Maca whispered then walked over to the tall woman, put her hands on Martine's cheeks and kissed her.

This wasn't a dream. This was real, Maca was really holding her, and Maca's lips were on her lips for the first time since Martine had been carried away from Maca twenty years ago. Time stopped as Maca tried to convey all that she felt and wanted in that one kiss.

The two older women watched and Emily instinctively reached out for Annie's hand, Emily prayed that maybe her niece would have a happy ending after all.

Still filled with self-loathing and anger, Martine broke away from the kiss but Maca continued to hold her as she apologized. "Lo siento, Cariño. I'm so sorry. I didn't understand what you went through just to find me. I get it now. I'm sorry for what your father did to you; and especially that you thought his death was your fault. It was an accident that happened at the wrong time, but it wasn't your fault." Martine couldn't look at Maca as the tears began to fall. "I had been angry at you for so long for leaving me; I thought you didn't love me any longer. But when I saw you in the cafeteria, I could see it in your eyes; I knew that I was wrong. So I stayed. I couldn't go back to España until I understood everything."

"Well, now you do," Martine snapped.

"Yes. I understand now. And understanding, I could never leave you again. I too have loved you my whole life."

Martine was beginning to calm down; Maca's words seeping through her armor. But one question still remained, "What about Esther?"

"Esther understood before I did. She said the decision was mine and, when or if I went home, we would talk."

Martine walked to the edge of the back porch and looked at the stars beginning to appear in the purple sky. An airplane flew high overhead on its way to Chicago. "She sounds really great."

"She is."

"And you love her."

"Si."

"And you love me."

"Claro."

"So what happens now?"

"Right now we take every moment we have and make each one a lifetime. You asked me for a chance to live the life we were supposed to have. Vale. Quiero que tambien. Te quiero mucho. I love you so much. I want to spend eternity with you – whether that is for ten thousand years or ten thousand minutes."

"So you're staying to watch me die?"

Emily and Annie both rolled their eyes at that and Emily started for the door, but Annie stopped her. This was something the two younger women had to work out themselves.

"I would prefer **_not_** having to do that." Maca answered.

Martine gave her an _'I knew it'_ smirk.

"But I will if that's what is meant to happen." Martine tried to walk away from her again. "Martine. Martine!" She stomped her boot on the porch and the startled woman turned around. "Our hearts are connected. From before we were born, the universe conspired to bring us together – our fathers' friendship, the U.S. government sending your father back to España; your father bringing you with him to Madrid and sending you to my school. Even after he tried to separate us, we were brought back together. Think about it! We had a once in a lifetime opportunity to perform a heart transplant on little Tomas. And you found an article about it in the Journal Medico de España, here in Atlanta. You recognized me in that piqueño photografia even though I use a name different from what you remembered."

Roberto had come around the outside of the building to see what his friends were yelling about and Maca continued. "Ask Roberto! Where was the first place I wanted to see when I arrived? Here! Rancho Lucia! A place I visited when I was six years old and haven't been back to since then." Roberto nodded in agreement. "Everything about our lives has been to put us together and then bring us **_back_** together." Maca walked up to Martine and looked into her green eyes. "Our hearts are connected," she repeated. "You are la luz de mi corazón."

"La luz de mi amor," Martine whispered; the liturgy must always be completed.

"Te quiero mucho, mi amor," Maca whispered.

"Je t'aime beaucoup, ma Cherie," Martine answered and the two women smiled at each other for the first time since that morning.

Maca couldn't resist any longer and closed the space between them. Putting one hand behind Martine's head and another around her waist, she kissed her gently, softly; a kiss of healing, a kiss of true love, a kiss that bridged twenty years and three hearts and a lifetime of doubt.

Watching through the screen door, Emily clasped her hands and hugged them to her chest. She smiled widely at Annie, tears beginning to gather in her eyes, and Annie stood beside her, watching the two younger women find peace in each other. Annie finally made a decision and put her arm around Emily's shoulders and leaned over and kissed Emily's right temple. Emily looked at her and smiled at the unexpected show of affection, and placed her head on Annie's shoulder, which got her another hug and another kiss on the top of her head.

All of a sudden the cover over the spaghetti sauce blew off the pot and crashed on the floor. Thick red sauce began bubbling over the pot and all over the stove and the floor. The two older women ran to the stove, shouting and laughing, followed quickly by the two younger women and Roberto. The five of them slipped and slid on the red goop and smashed into each other, laughing. Roberto was the first to fall, trying to keep Annie from falling, and he banged into Maca who was flabbergasted when she realized that for the third time in a week, she was on her butt. All of a sudden, a bowl filled with flour and sugar that was about to be muffins for tomorrow's breakfast was knocked off the long prep table and landed on Maca, spilling white powder all over her hair and shoulders. Martine laughed at the powdered doctor and before she knew it, she was covered in fresh, smashed blueberries, the other ingredient in the morning muffins.

When a cup full of cream and a stick of butter were aimed by the doctors, Emily shouted, "Stop!" and the two women paused in mid-throw, food held high. She didn't expect the splat of chocolate icing that hit her squarely on her chest, and was shocked when she saw the empty spatula still in Annie's hand. "You?"

Annie smiled but there was a look of worry in her eyes, this was a new aspect of their relationship and she wasn't sure what to expect. Roberto slid under the prep table, trying to avoid flying food. So he didn't see Emily pick up the banana cream pie from the counter and aim it at Annie. He didn't see Annie raise her hands in surrender and plead for mercy; she even pled for the life of the banana cream pie, and started a string of French sweet-nothings hoping that would halt the impending onslaught. So when Roberto stood up at the same time that Emily threw the pie, he didn't expect it to miss Annie by two feet and hit him in the face.

He just stood there, banana cream and flaky crust falling off his nose and cheeks and falling onto his black Dolce suit and freshly shined, black leather Gucci shoes.

The five of them started laughing and Emily went over to Roberto and handed him a dish towel. He wiped the whip cream off of his forehead, out of his eyes; he sampled some of the pie and was sorry that it had been wasted – his suit didn't enjoy it as much as he would have. Martine started brushing the flour and sugar out of Maca's hair and off her shoulders as Maca wiped smashed blueberries off of Martine's shirt. Annie pulled out a few more dish towels from a drawer next to the sink and when she turned around, she came face to face with a spatula covered with chocolate icing. She screamed and tried to duck out of the way but Emily's reflexes were quicker; the spatula was dragged from Annie's forehead to her chin.

"We couldn't leave you out, now could we, Cherie?" Emily purred.

Annie's sixty-four year old reflexes may have been slow, but her mind was quick and she grabbed Emily by the shoulders and pulled her into a kiss. That gesture accomplished two things: it answered a question Emily had posed just before Martine and Maca showed up about whether or not they were ready to reveal their secret love affair; and it got a fresh batch of chocolate icing all over Emily's face as well.

Annie brushed her hand across Emily's flushed cheek. "Oooh, brown and red go well together."

Emily couldn't speak and just shook her head and smiled at her lover. _This is going to be fun!_ She thought.

Martine watched them proudly, and laughed when a glance at Maca and Roberto showed, mouths open and eyes wide, that they were as shocked as she had been by the unexpected revelation.

Emily still wasn't quite ready for her relationship to be the center of attention, so she shooed the younger people up the back staircase to the bathrooms on the third floor. She gave another lovingly exasperated look at Annie, who beamed proudly, raised her long, full skirt to reveal her ankles and feet and did a little shuffle dance.

"This summer," Annie suggested boldly, "We're riding with Martine's biker group in the Gay Pride parade." That brought another wave of shocked laughter from Emily, until it occurred to her that Martine might not be there to ride with them. Annie saw the sadness wash over Emily with that thought and walked over to hug her. When they parted, the laughter started again when they saw that they kept moving the chocolate icing back and forth over each of them.

Emily reached up and wiped a finger full of icing off of Annie's apron and tasted it. "Mmm. That's good. Keep some for later," she suggested with a seductive grin and a wink. She laughed when she saw Annie's dark cheeks redden but left to change her clothes before the beautiful dark woman with twinkling black eyes could find a better response.


	15. Chapter 15

What would you do if you knew you only had a few weeks left to live? Would you go to Paris or the Pyramids? Would you go to Las Vegas, step up to the high rollers' table and drop down a stack of cash? Would you skydive or go bungee-jumping? Would you get orchestra tickets for every Broadway show? Or would you stay at home and spend the time with family and friends?

Miss Emily would have preferred that Martine stay home and rest, hoping that the peacefulness would delay the inevitable. But Martine still felt well. She knew that she could increase the dosages of the various medications keeping her alive; she also knew that eventually the pills wouldn't keep away infections or keep her heart beating. Looking back, she knew that she had lived an abundant life, even without Maca, and she didn't have a long bucket list. She wanted to share the remaining time with Maca and her family.

After that very emotional Monday, everyone at Rancho Lucia knew that the two women needed some play time. So Martine, Maca and Roberto all stayed at the house and for the next few days, they enjoyed the amenities it offered: horseback riding, sailing, long walks around the lake, and lots of time to sit and talk over crumbly-sweet sugar cookies and sweet tea. Martine also spent time showing Maca the city she had come to call home. They explored the World of Coca Cola, they shopped at the Lenox Square Mall, they went to the High Museum, they had hamburgers and played games at Dave and Busters, they walked around the Emory campus, and watched a game of the all-women Decatur Softball league. Then at the end of each day, they would kiss goodnight at the top of the stairs and head into different bedrooms. They both felt like they were courting, learning about each other, and learning to love each other all over again.

During her second and third week in Atlanta, Maca reduced her time at the hospital to only a few visits. It gave Martine time with Miss Emily, and it gave Maca time to decompress from all the emotions swirling inside of her. Maca found it hard to believe that she could feel so many different emotions at the same time. As a doctor she was frustrated with a patient that couldn't be healed and she secretly sent case notes to several friends to see if they had any treatment suggestions. Most came back with gentle apologies or ideas that had already been tried. As a friend she enjoyed the playfulness of their budding relationship, but was exasperated at the shyness and lack of intimacy. And as someone who had promised herself to Esther, she felt the pangs of guilt for wanting to love and make love to another woman, but she also felt hurt each time she thought that Esther could be with Bea right now.

On the Friday morning of Maca's third week in Atlanta, she woke up in Martine's apartment. They had gone to a late showing of a movie and decided to stay at the apartment instead of coming in late and disrupting the house. Rolling out of the guest bed, she grabbed a white silk robe and sauntered down the hall and heard music coming from the kitchen. Martine was at the counter cutting a cantaloupe and adding the pieces to a bowl of oranges, peaches and apples. The scent of blueberry muffins was coming from the oven and coffee was brewing in the red coffee maker. The Kinleys were singing and Martine was swaying to the peppy music. _Just between us, I've seen us together in all my dreams. And when we touch, it's too much; it's electricity, just between you and me. Just you and me and a night like this, you take my breath with one sweet kiss maybe two. Just between me and you…_

Maca stopped to watch her, tingles went up her spine and then quickly worked their way south to remind her that this was a woman she loved and loved to touch. It was getting harder to keep herself from pouncing on the tall woman whose green eyes pierced her self-control. She wasn't sure why they were waiting – she thought that Martine was beginning to have just as hard a time as she was trying to control herself – but she would wait for Martine to let her know when she was ready.

Maca thought to herself: _Perhaps if she knew how much I wanted to make love to her, she would let her walls down and let me show her how I feel_.

She walked over to Martine and stood behind her, their hips moving together to the beat of the music; she slid her hands around Martine's hips and over the firm stomach, one hand stopped seductively close to the place between Martine's breasts. The cardiologist had to stop cutting and put the knife down for fear of cutting herself. Martine ran her hands along the silk covered arms and hugged them more tightly to her. Maca complied, pulling her tightly, and kissed the tender spot just behind Martine's ear. Martine moaned and leaned her head against Maca's shoulder, giving Maca permission to continue kissing the long, slender neck.

As Maca's lips moved over the tank top covered shoulder, her right hand moved up between Martine's breasts and stroked her long neck and chin as her left hand moved down the flat stomach to the elastic band at the top of Martine's lime green shorts. The hand on top of Maca's stopped the southwardly progress.

Maca whispered in Martine's ear, "I want to touch you."

"I..I…don't know," Martine stuttered.

"What Carino? No more walls. I am here, you are here. We love each other. What don't you know?" Maca pleaded softly.

"I…" Martine couldn't finish, too embarrassed to admit her problem.

"What is it? Que te pasa?" Then the doctor in Maca had an idea. "Are you menstruating?"

"No," Martine laughed, now more embarrassed.

"Do you not want to make love to me?" Maca asked.

"That's not it!" Martine insisted.

"Then what is it? Por favor, hablame, por dios."

"I haven't…" Martine turned beet red and Maca couldn't imagine what was wrong. "In a long…Shit," Martine was getting frustrated with herself. "I've loved you for so long."

"I know, Carino." Maca touched the warm face tenderly.

"I just want it to be perfect. Like it was back then."

"Que?" Maca whispered. When she looked into those green eyes, she understood and knew it wasn't a game or a lie. "Martine. Dios mio. That was twenty years ago."

"Right now, it seems like yesterday. And I just want it to be perfect."

"Martine, te quiero. Just being here with you is perfect. Tranquila. When you are ready, I will be here. Vale. Mita. Ahora besame, por favor."

Wanting to close the distance between them, Martine stepped into Maca's arms and wrapped her arms around Maca's neck. She pulled Maca close, seeking and finding warm, moist lips longing for her. They kissed, at first lips touching lips, and then tentatively a tongue stroked an upper lip. A moan encouraged more and tongues began to explore, as if for the first time.

Nothing existed for Martine except that kiss.

Nothing existed for Maca except the body in her arms. She wanted to touch it, she wanted to taste it, and she wanted to make it moan in pleasure. She had waited twenty years for this. Fate had conspired to bring them together again. She had made her choice and she was ready to commit fully to that choice – for as long as Martine lived she would be here and she would love her.

The oven bell dinged that the muffins were ready. No one in the kitchen heard it.

Hands caressed, lips moved over neck and shoulders and cheeks and back to waiting lips, legs entwined. Maca let go long enough to lift the white fabric from Martine's stomach, which she began kissing and caressing, moving around the small dimple of Martine's belly button, sliding up until she got almost to Martine's breasts, and then headed back down until she got to the elastic band of Martine's shorts. She pushed the fabric down, just a little, to see how Martine would respond and got the answer she expected – the tall woman pulled her up and into more kisses.

Martine had felt the kisses on her stomach, warm and cool at the same time, moist and soft. Everywhere Maca kissed and touched screamed for more attention. She could feel Maca's hands on her – kneading gently, caressing, pulling her closer. The cool air in the kitchen chilled her as Maca's kisses warmed each spot that she touched. As Maca's lips moved up, she almost pleaded for her to continue further up; she wanted those lips on her lips, she wanted those lips on her breasts. But Maca stopped and headed back down. When Maca lowered the band of her shorts just a little, Martine almost screamed yes, she wanted to, she was _that_ ready.

The call box by the elevator dinged. No one in the kitchen heard it.

Martine pulled Maca closer so that she could kiss her, wanting to taste her lips, wanting to caress them as if they was actually the center of pleasure down below. Martine spun them around so that Maca was leaning against the counter, and after pushing the cutting board with the half cut cantaloupe and the bowl of fruit out of their way, she lifted Maca so she was sitting on the counter. The added height brought Maca's breasts closer and Martine took a appreciate their firm roundness. Unable to wait longer, Martine kissed the part of Maca's neck that was visible and moved the white silk robe off of Maca's shoulders and down her arms. Maca slid her arms free of the robe and entwined her fingers in Martine's long black hair. She pulled Martine into a kiss but the green-eyed woman wanted to touch other places and began unbuttoning the pale pink pajama shirt. Four pink, fabric-covered buttons were slowly undone, and with each button released the intensity increased. Maca nearly cried out when Martine finally pushed the shirt apart and the cool air touched her skin. She gasped when Martine's hand moved to the side of her right breast and her lips found its point. She moaned in approval as Martine's lips pulled and suckled, while Martine's right hand found Maca's other breast and ran a thumb across the excited nipple.

The bell at the elevator call box dinged again. Again, it went unheard.

Maca's legs parted and she scooted closer to the edge of the counter, wrapping her legs around Martine's waist. Martine took that as permission to take more of Maca's breast into her mouth and Maca pulled her closer, breathing hard, little "oh's" coming from her rounded mouth. She moved to the other breast, her tongue making little circles, her lips pulling, teeth nibbling softly. A deep rumbling inside of Maca made Martine smile as her lips moved between the two gorgeous breasts and kissed their way up to Maca's neck. She kissed the spot just below Maca's ear, and a warm, soft breath in her ear sent glorious shivers down Maca's spine. Lips found lips and Maca pulled Martine's tongue into her mouth; Martine moaned at Maca's desire.

Unheard, Maca's cell phone rang in the living room.

After all the bells and dings and rings over the last fifteen minutes that didn't get their attention, it was a song that started on Martine's MP3 player that made them stop and listen. A soft melody started, and then Barbra Streisand began: _Time has come again and love has come again. Like some music in a dream, you made it all come true, when you came inside my life. Now I'm lost inside of you. Lost in the music and lost in your eyes. I could spend all of my time hearing songs you sing, feeling love you bring. Darling being close to you made all, made all my dreams come true, when you came inside my life. Now I'm lost inside of you._

The two women stopped and looked in each other's eyes. They smiled and hugged, swaying to the music. It was from a movie that they used to watch together: _A Star is Born_ , with Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson. In the movie, he brought her to his mansion, nearly empty except for a music studio. As they walked up the stairs to the second floor, he took a can of black spray paint and starting with the 'r' painted her name "Esther" in reverse up the staircase wall. Later when she was playing a sonata she had written, he sat down at the piano beside her and created for her that song called "Lost Inside of You".

"Tu es una romantica grande," Maca whispered.

"Me? You're the one who watched that movie seventeen times."

"Claro! Es Barbra!" Maca rolled her 'r' seductively.

"Oh yeah! The nose," Martine ran her finger down Maca's slightly curved nose.

"The hair," Maca brushed her hands over Martine's long black hair.

"The eyebrows," Martine trailed her thumbs along Maca's brown eyebrows. "Oh, you're so pretty," she purred as she kissed Maca, re-enacting the bathtub scene. Maca put her arms around Martine's neck and kissed her back.

Then three things happened at the same time: Roberto came through the elevator door yelling "hello", Martine's phone rang, and dark smoke started coming from the oven.

Martine ran to the front door, pulling her t-shirt down, and then seeing who it was, turned and went for her phone. Maca, oblivious of her robe flowing openly, grabbed a potholder and opened the smoking oven. Six black muffins sent steam and smoke in her face and she coughed as she reached in and removed the muffin tin. As she was putting the muffin tin on the stove, the pan slipped and she burned the tip of her thumb. She dropped the pan on the stove, cursed "Mierda", and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

Roberto and Martine walked into the kitchen to see the tall woman, chestnut hair disheveled, white robe open to reveal ample, attentive breasts, sucking her thumb. Martine smiled like it was Christmas, Roberto turned red and then had to turn around, his body responding naturally but unexpectedly to the beautiful woman, and Maca just getting the image that they saw, flushed and started fumbling for her robe.

Feeling once again like they were two school girls caught making out, Maca was speechless, but when she saw Martine's green eyes laughing, unashamed, looking adoringly at her, she smiled and shook her head. The two women looked at Roberto, who hadn't quite gathered his composure, and shared a knowing laugh. When he turned his head to see what they were laughing at and saw that it was him, it only added to his embarrassment and he started to walk to the door.

"I'll wait for you outside, Maca," he said as he started to hit the button to call the elevator.

Martine ran over to him and put her arm around his shoulder and turned him around. "Come back in here, you. Where do you think you're going?" She walked him back into the kitchen.

"I'm gonna wait in the car," he mumbled looking at his feet.

"What? No you're not. It's fine. See," she pointed at Maca, "all put back together."

Maca may have been all put back together, but Roberto would never forget the sight of her breasts, her stomach, and the curve of her hips. She could have had a fur parka, a sweater and a turtleneck shirt on and he would still be able to see the roundness of her breasts, the brown, pert nipples, the muscular stomach, and the hourglass waist. If that wasn't bad enough, whenever his mind replayed the image of her sucking her thumb, his maleness responded, and he had to sit on the bench on the other side of the counter.

"Buenos, Berto." Maca smiled and purred at him.

He crossed his legs and studied the counter. "Morning, señora. Um, Maca." His Latin vibrato had been replaced by a charming boyishness that warmed both women.

Maca looked at Martine, who smiled back adoringly.

"Would you like some coffee?" Maca asked, taking over the kitchen. She pointed to a stool for Martine and proceeded to get eggs and butter from the refrigerator. She brought the coffee pot and three cups to the counter and Martine poured the coffee while Maca retrieved a frying pan from a hook above her. Martine handed Roberto a cup of black coffee, added cream to Maca's cup, and made her own with lots of cream and sugar.

Maca raised her coffee cup in a toast and offered with a seductive Spanish accent, "To a gooood morning." The two people on the other side of the counter blushed.

Martine laughed and tapped her cup against Maca's, "Oui, Cherie, un bon matin."

And Roberto lifted his cup and started to toast with them, but another image of Maca came to mind and he quickly brought his arm back down to the counter. Martine ruffled his hair like a big sister and he rolled his eyes at her before finally laughing at himself. The two women joined him and Martine thought how great the day was turning out.


	16. Chapter 16

CONTENT NOTE: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS IMAGERY OF TWO WOMEN LOVING EACH OTHER. IF THIS BOTHERS YOU, PLEASE PRACTICE SELF-CARE AND READ AT YOUR DISCRETION.

After breakfast and after getting ready to go to the hospital for a meeting with Jimmy, Maca headed for the door with Roberto. Martine had an idea for dinner and put a hand on Maca's arm to stop her. "Cherie, come home hungry."

Maca put a hand on the back of Martine's neck and put her lips dangerously close to Martine's. "I am always hungry for you, Cariño," and she kissed Martine soundly, deeply, so that there would be no confusion about what she meant.

As the door opened, Roberto quickly entered the elevator and Maca followed him. As she saw the bright red faces in front and beside her, Maca let out a hearty, bold laugh. There were times when being the center of attention was wonderful.

Maca spent the day at Eggleston anticipating the evening. An hour after Maca arrived, a vase with a single white rose surrounded by soft, white baby's breath and a sprig of green fern was waiting for her on the Emergency Room counter. Three hours later, she found another vase with three white roses waiting for her in Martine's office. Her mind began wander, wondering what Martine had planned, and Jimmy would have to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention. He would smile and shake his head, inwardly blaming and praising his protégé; Martine had clearly worked her magic on the Spanish doctor. Throughout the day, successively bigger bouquets of white roses would arrive, and the other doctors and nurses began sharing in Maca's anticipation and excitement. At the end of a meeting held to discuss sending some neonatal equipment to Hospital Central, Jimmy finally suggested that Maca take the rest of the afternoon off, and she gladly called Roberto to pick her up. When he arrived, she ran to the car like a school girl heading for summer vacation. On the back seat she found an unwrapped single white rose, which she lifted to her nose to smell the soft, sweet scent.

With a quick phone call to ensure that everything was ready upstairs, Roberto let Maca out of the car and Sam opened the glass door of the apartment building. The elevator was patiently waiting for her and Sam put his master key in the switch for Martine's floor and turned the key. He wished her a good evening and Maca thanked him, saying that she thought it would be a wonderful evening.

She rode up the twenty one floors, laughing when she realized that the elevator music was a very surreal, kind of scary Muzak version of Madonna's 'Who's that Girl?'

The elevator door opened to a darkened foyer, lit only by a white candle. She called into the apartment, "Martine?"

Looking down the hall and into the living room she saw that the rest of the apartment was dark as well and began to get a little worried. Then she saw another candle on the green block that was part of the coffee table, beside it was another white rose. Maca stopped there to drop off her backpack and jacket, and picked up the white rose.

She continued through the living room smelling the rose when she noticed another candle near the terrace door. Pushing through the cream-colored curtain covering the terrace door, she walked into a magical world designed by Martine. White candles of all shapes and sizes lit the terrace that looked out over the twinkling Atlanta skyline. On one end of the terrace was a candlelit table set with white and blue china, shining crystal champagne glasses, and a bouquet of large white roses. Near the table was a cart filled with several covered dishes and beside the table was an ice bucket in a chrome stand with a wrapped bottle of champagne already open and breathing.

At the other end of the terrace, two wooden lounge chairs were pushed to the side and another table held more flowers. New Age music softly drifted from speakers hanging near the door, adding to the ethereal atmosphere on the terrace. More bunches of white roses were scattered around the terrace and round crystal bowls about the size of softballs lined the terrace wall, each one holding a tight bunch of the fragrant flowers.

In the background the music changed and Maca heard Jane Olivor sing, _"You are the one who makes me happy when everything else is gray. Yours is the voice that wakes me mornings and kicks me out into the day. You are the one that sits quiet listening to me and all the nonsense I make. You are one of the few things worth remembering. And since it's all true how could anyone mean more to me than you."_

Maca's attention shifted when out of the shadows appeared Martine, dressed in a black velvet tuxedo, the jacket open except for a single button at her waist. Maca inhaled and a tingle quivered through her body – there was nothing else beneath the jacket except a long black tie, hanging loosely around her neck and tied with a simple knot. The tie pulled Maca's attention to Martine's long, slender neck and then led her eyes down passed bare breasts beneath the jacket and further down to the firm stomach where the tie ended in a point. Below the jacket, Martine wore velvet slacks with satin trim along the sides, and straight, crisp creases down the center. Martine's long bare feet stuck out and Maca noticed that several soft Persian rugs had been scattered around the terrace to cover the cement floor.

The music continued. _"Sorry if sometimes I look past you. There's no one beyond your eyes. Inside my head the wheels are turning. Hey, sometimes I'm not so wise. You are my heart and my soul, my inspiration, just like the old records sing. You are one of the few things worth remembering. And since it's all true, how could anyone mean more to me than you."_

Working her way back up, Maca finally came to mesmerizing green eyes, filled with emotion – joy, adoration, playfulness, passion, and if she allowed herself to watch just a little longer, she could see sadness. This was a time of their own, but they both knew it would be too short.

 _"You are my heart and my soul, my inspiration, just like the old records sing. You are one of the few things worth remembering. And since it's all true, how could anyone mean more to me than you."_

From behind Martine's back came a single red rose, perfect, and only slightly opened.

"It's beautiful," Maca swooned, opening her arms to encompass the terrace. "You're beautiful," she brought her hands together as she walked across a Persian rug to the statuesque woman waiting for her.

Martine handed her the flower, which Maca took, careful not to grab the thorns on the stem, and added it to the white one in her hand. Then Martine took her free hand and kissed the top of it. " _You're_ beautiful, Cherie." Pulling her closer, she ran a finger along Maca's cheekbone and pulled her chin toward her, placing a soft kiss on Maca's full red lips. When they parted, Martine asked if she would like some champagne, and Maca nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.

Martine poured a two glasses of champagne and returned to where Maca was still standing. She handed her the long, thin glass, and Maca took a sip, blissfully purring at the sweet, sharp flavor.

Trying to collect herself, Maca walked over to the high terrace wall and looked over as a violin played in the background. She stood on the tips of her toes and looked down at the street below, vertigo shot through her and she quickly looked back up at the buildings and the park in front of her. To the right was the center of Atlanta, tall glass and metal buildings, tinted dark pink by the setting sun. In front of her was Piedmont Park, green lawns and trees, the small black lake, bikers, joggers and walkers moving across paved pathways that wove across and around the park. There were more sunset-washed buildings to her left and she knew that in that general direction was the Emory campus and the wonderful hospital where she spent her days.

The song changed to Tina Arena's "Show Me Heaven": _There you go, flashing fever from your eyes. Hey baby, come over here and shut them tight. I'm not denying we're flying above it all. Hold my hand, don't let me fall. You've such amazing grace. I've never felt this way. Oh. Show me heaven, cover me, leave me breathless. Show me heaven, please._

Martine joined her at the wall and tried to see the city through Maca's eyes, she studied the tall buildings, the green park, and the setting sun. Of all the cities in the U.S., this was the one that she liked the most. Sure, it had its problems: crime, gangs, not enough jobs for the undereducated, very poor and the over-educated middle class, and right now gas was nearly four dollars a gallon and getting more scarce every day. But it also had all the cosmopolitan flair of New York City mixed with Los Angeles' laissez faire attitude and good old-fashioned southern charm. A short plane ride could get you to New York, Chicago, New Orleans or Miami. Lake Lanier and Hartwell Lake were less than two hours away, and the Shenandoah Mountains and the beaches of the Atlantic coast were only a few hours further. Atlanta had a rich history, but within a day's drive were also Savannah to the east and Birmingham to the west, each with their share of southern charm and historical impact. If you wanted to stay in the city, then you had your choice of professional and collegiate sports, theatre, symphony, ballet, art museums, Six Flags, several large shopping malls, first class restaurants and hotels, and artistic and cultural festivals throughout the year.

Maca didn't know as much about Atlanta but what she knew, she liked. She compared it to Madrid, which to her was as metropolitan and artistic as Paris and London, but had kept a friendly and carefree spirit like Copenhagen and Barcelona. She loved the history and pomp of the capital city. She loved walking with her children through the Museo Prado, (she had discovered a passion for Goya there,) and the Fauria zoo. The city was 2000 feet above sea level, the highest in all of Europe. The Spanish had a saying "from Madrid to the sky", and it was there on the roof of Central, overlooking the majestic city that she felt closest to God. She loved the affect that the fashion industry had on the style of the city, she loved that – like Atlanta – the city had been touched by the world and at any given time, one could have a hamburger or sushi or Tikka Masala, see a Billy Joel or Yo Yo Ma concert, and watch a Charlie Chaplin film festival or world class futbol. Mostly, Maca thought privately, she loved the city because her children were there. And with every thought of her children came the warm thought of Esther.

Maca glanced over at the tall, sexy woman next to her; she was swaying to an Olivia Newton-John song. _"Look at me, can't you tell I'd be so thrilled to see the message in your eyes. Suddenly the wheels are in motion and I'm ready to sail any ocean. Suddenly, I don't need the answers. I'm ready to take all my chances with you."_

This was the woman who had prepared a beautiful dinner and created a magical atmosphere, the woman who had spent her life looking for her, loving her, trying to stay alive long enough to see her one last time. She felt like she owed Martine her full attention and filed away her feelings for Esther. She would have her life with Esther, but for now she was here with Martine, whom she genuinely loved and desired.

Another song began and caught Maca's attention. As Roberta Flack sang, Maca took Martine's hand and pulled her gently away from the terrace wall. Looking into vivid green eyes that reflected the love she was feeling, she put her arms around Martine's waist and pulled her into an embrace, her hands reveling in the feel of the soft black velvet. " _The first time ever I saw your face I thought the sun rose in your eyes and the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave to the dark, and the endless skies, my love, to the dark, and the endless skies."_

They swayed to the music, and Maca brought Martine's hand to her chest as she wrapped her other hand around Martine's back. Martine's free arm wrapped around Maca's shoulders, stroking her hair. _The first time ever I kissed your mouth, I felt the earth move in my hands, like a trembling heart of a captive bird that was there at my command, my love, that was there at my command, my love._ Guided by the powerful suggestion, the two women kissed; softly at first, and then harder and deeper, the passion from this morning rekindling.

 _The first time ever I lay with you, I felt your heart so close to mine and I knew our joy would fill the earth and last till the end of time, my love, and it would last till the end of time, my love. The first time, ever I saw your face_ … Their hands released and they wrapped each other into an embrace. A leg slid between Martine's and they pulled each other tighter as their bodies swayed, the need to be closer growing.

Roberta Flack faded into Marilyn Martin and they continued to dance, the food and wine and the full moon especially ordered for tonight forgotten: _When we're together, touching each other, and our bodies do what we feel; When we're dancing, kissing and swaying, tender love songs softly playing; Move closer, move your body real close, until we feel like we're really making love. Move closer, move your body real close until we feel like we're really making love. So when I say, "Sugar" and I whisper "I love you," well I know you've got the sweetest way of saying "My pretty baby, I love you too." There's much room for passion, there's no room for fear_ …

Maca's hands began to roam and found the button to Martine's tuxedo jacket, and releasing it, ran her hand around her bare waist to her back. Martine tingled with the touch. Maca's other hand pushed open the black jacket to reveal a perfect breast. She pushed aside the black tie and saw the long scar. She leaned down and kissed the space between Martine's breasts, where underneath, her heart's erratic beating was all that kept Martine alive.

Looking at the spot she just kissed, she whispered, "Gracias." Martine looked at her, the question in her eyes and Maca answered her. "It brought you back to me."

"I don't think anything could have kept me away, not even death."

And Maca, realizing that Martine nearly had to prove that statement, kissed her – her desire, her need, and her fear of loss drawing Martine to her – and a powerful need to make love to the woman in front of her swelled. She moved her kisses to Martine's neck until the cardiologist moaned with pleasure. When Maca's mouth found a nipple and let out a soft hum, Martine's knees nearly buckled. Maca looked up at her worried, but was reassured when Martine's hands guided her mouth back to the moist, erect nipple. Maca obliged and gently took it between her teeth, her tongue flicking the tip. She suckled and pulled on that one while her hand fondled the other. Then, trailing her tongue down between Martine's breasts, she kissed her way down to Martine's flat stomach, kissed her belly button and circled her tongue around its edge. She kissed a little lower, testing to see if Martine would stop her but the tall woman's hands only caressed her hair and neck. Martine had no intention of stopping her; her body craved this, needed this more than any pill or medical procedure.

Maca drew her hands around Martine's hips and over her round rear. Her hands continued down the backs of Martine's legs and knees, and then she ran fingertips up the front of Martine's thighs. One hand brushed lightly between Martine's legs sending lightning bolts of pleasure shooting through her body. She pulled Maca up and found her mouth, kissing her hard, their tongues tasting, licking, and sliding in and out over moist lips. Maca pushed the black coat off of Martine's shoulder and arms, letting it fall onto the soft rug; a cool breeze made Martine quiver and Maca pulled her into a warming embrace.

Wanting to see the woman she loved, Maca took a step back and held her at arm's length. She was beautiful, in all the ways a woman could be. The curves, the round breasts, the muscular arms and shoulders, topped off with a long neck, oval face, long black hair and liquid green eyes that twinkled in the candlelight. She untied the long silk tie and dropped it on top of the jacket. She no longer saw the scar. Standing an arm's length apart, Maca took one finger and ran it from Martine's chin, down her neck and chest, around one brown nipple and then around the other. She continued trailing the finger down and around her belly button and finally hooked it on the belt around Martine's waist and pulled. Martine stumbled toward her, drawn by the power of that one finger and all that it promised.

Maca moved them over to the long, wooden lounge chair but before Maca could sit, Martine pulled a terry-cloth covered roll hanging on the back of the chair. It flopped forward to the head of the chair, where it could be used as a pillow, and when Martine unsnapped the strap holding it closed, it unrolled and a soft pad covered the length of the long wooden chair.

Maca sat down in the center of the softly padded lounge chair and pulled Martine so that she was standing between her knees. She ran her hands slowly up and down Martine's long legs, enjoying the softness of the long black trousers. Martine bent down to kiss Maca, deeply, sensually, but not as hard as before. Desire overwhelmed her but she felt like time had stopped, and she wanted to make this moment last.

Maca unbuckled the thin black belt and pulled, unthreading it from around Martine's waist. With both hands, she unbuttoned the top button and parted the material, kissing the soft skin beneath. Finding the top of the zipper, she pulled the small black tab down, slowly, so very, very slowly, revealing lacy pink panties below. Placing her hands on the sides of Martine's hips, Maca pushed both the black slacks and pink panties down over the firm round rear-end, past the black curls that covered Martine's places of pleasure, and past long muscular thighs and calves. Maca raised the bruised knee to her lips and kissed it, then set the bare foot outside the pant leg. She raised the other knee and kissed it as well, and then Martine stood completely nude in front of her.

Martine, who was usually complete at ease in her own skin, felt somewhat shy and exposed in front of Maca, which only added to her appeal and Maca felt a surge of protectiveness.

Martine pushed the clothes away with her bare foot and knelt down in front of Maca. Starting at the top button of her shirt, she slowly undid each one, making sure that nothing of her touched Maca, she wanted the pediatrician to focus only her hands. When Maca reached up to touch her, she gently took both of Maca's hands and brought them around her back, holding them there until Maca smiled in understanding. Leaving the unbuttoned shirt tucking in but slightly opened to reveal a lacy brown bra, Martine's hands moved to Maca's long black boots. Martine slowly unzipped each boot, removed it and set it aside. Then, grasping the toe and the heel of Maca's thick boot-sock, pulled and removed each of those. She stood and guided Maca to lie back on the long chair, kissing her as she held the back of Maca's head.

Bending over the long, thin body quivering in anticipation, Martine kissed Maca's lips as she ran her hand inside Maca's shirt and over a waiting breast. As her tongue explored Maca's mouth, her thumb rubbed around and over the erect nipple. It took all of Maca's will to keep her from ripping off her own shirt and bra so that she could feel the cool hand and warm mouth compelling her.

For a moment, Martine's hands lifted off her body and she stopped kissing Maca, but Maca reveled in the echoes of her touches and the music once again reached into her consciousness. _"Sit still and close your eyes. What's behind the other door? No more silence. Don't kill this thing we've got called love just searching for the perfect time. When love comes calling, don't look back. When love comes calling, don't turn away."_

Maca opened her eyes to see Martine watching her and unable to restrain herself, she reached up and pulled the black-haired woman to her. Martine spread out beside her on the wide lounge chair; her long nude body contrasting against Maca's clothed one. Martine reached her hand out to Maca's jeans and pulled the fabric over the top button. But instead of unzipping the jeans, she ran her hands across Maca's stomach, down her leg and back up, rubbing over the space between Maca's legs. Moans escaped as her hips rose. She was so ready.

Martine continued at her own pace. She pulled down the zipper and slipped her hands between cloth and skin, pushing inside the tight jeans. Maca rolled over slightly and wrapped her arms around Martine's neck, pulling her into a deep, languid kiss. For too brief a moment, Martine caressed the curls underneath her hands, but found herself wanting more as well. She stood up and straddled the chair with her long legs. Pulling on the legs of Maca's jeans, she slid the pants over hips and legs and dropped the garment on top of her own slacks. She studied Maca, who was stretched out, one knee slightly bent, light brown panties and bra covered by an unbuttoned brown paisley shirt. Maca sat up and removed her shirt.

As if it had all been timed to the events of the evening, the words of another song played throughout the terrace and Martine lay back down next to Maca and began kissing and caressing her. _"Such pretty hair. May I kiss you, may I kiss you there. So beautiful. You are so beautiful, beautiful. Please, don't move. You feel so good to me. Tell me in my ear. Beautiful. Beautiful. So very beautiful."_

Maca's hands moved over Martine's body, down her long back, over her hips and she pulled Martine on top of her so that she straddled her. Then Maca moved her hands over Martine's breasts and along her sides and over the thighs placed on each side of her. Using Martine's hips to pull herself up, Maca rose up and took a nipple in her mouth, and then Martine's arms wrapped around her and held her so that she could use her hands and mouth to urge moans and purrs and deep breaths from the black haired woman.

While holding Maca, Martine skillfully unfastened Maca's brown bra and Maca impatiently pulled it off her shoulders and flung it away from her. About an hour later, when Sam the doorman was walking his English Bull Terrier, he found it on the sidewalk. Looking up and seeing the lights on the terrace high above, he smiled and put it in his pocket. It wasn't the first time an undergarment found itself flung over the side of one of the terraces. He made a mental note of the apartment and continued walking his dog, knowing immediately which woman it belonged to; he was never wrong. Later that night, when the lights went out, he would discreetly make sure that she could find it.

Martine pushed Maca back down and spent time enjoying the full round breasts. Maca's hands never stopped moving and caressed Martine's back, fondled her breasts, brushed across her ears and neck, wanting all of her. When Martine's mouth followed a trail down between Maca's breasts, over her stomach and down to the brown curls between Maca's legs, Maca grabbed the sides of the chair. Her mind knew only the warm mouth touching her, her body only existed where Martine touched.

Maca called Martine's name between moans and gasps. There was no confusion; she knew it was Martine and not any other woman she had ever been with. Martine had always known exactly where to touch her; she knew where her tongue would evoke the greatest pleasure; she knew where her fingers would send bursts of pleasure coursing through her body. This was the woman whose touch and tongue had awakened her sexuality, and yet there were new techniques and ways that she touched with her tongue and long fingers that made Maca want to scream in ecstasy.

But Maca wanted more. It wasn't enough just to be touched by Martine; she wanted to touch her as well. She wanted to feel the moist black curls; she wanted to be inside Martine just as she wanted Martine inside her. Calling her name in a different tone got Martine's attention, and she looked up. Maca pulled on her arms and drew her back up. Kissing her, she tasted herself, which sent new waves coursing throughout her body.

She rolled Martine over and slid down the long body until she was just above the black curls. Using her hands to part the moist hairs, she ran her tongue over moist and sensitive skin and Martine's hips lifted off the padded chair. Maca took the opportunity and slid her hands between Martine's legs and wrapped her arms underneath and around Martine's thighs. She spent time exploring, touching, tasting, causing the woman below her to moan as her hips moved in time with Maca's tongue. Then pulling one arm free, she used her own long fingers to exude a new burst of moans from the cardiologist. Martine's breathing became heavy and with every thrust of Maca's fingers and lick of Maca's tongue, her hips rose to meet her. As she felt the moment nearing, she breathed Maca's name, in prayer and ecstasy, her blood coursing straight for points of pleasure. And with a burst of energy and moisture, the moment arrived. The first time Maca made her feel that way, Martine compared it to how one of those hard little plastic balls, the kind you get in gumball machines, feels when its thrown hard against the floor and then bounces ten feet into the air. Her breathing stopped, her mind ceased, her body stopped, and lightning coursed through her.

It took a moment to realize that Maca had stopped and climbed back up beside her. The pediatrician's hand was on her bare chest, trying to feel the heart underneath. Worried, knowledgeable fingers moved up to her neck and measured her pulse, which made Martine laugh.

"I'm okay," she said, ignoring the tightness in her chest.

"Then breathe," the doctor ordered.

Martine took in and let out a series of deep breaths, blaming the heaviness she was feeling on the moment and the surge of energy she had just experienced.

Martine took the hand from her chest and kissed each finger, "I'm good. No, I'm great. Don't worry." And when she pulled Maca on top of her and started rubbing her back and rear end, Maca stopped worrying.

When the Barbra Streisand song that had played that morning began, they stopped to listen. _"Time has come again and love is the wind. Like some music in a dream, you made them all come true when you came inside my life. Now I'm lost inside of you. Lost in the music and lost in your eyes, I could spend all of my time hearing songs you sing, feeling love you bring. Darling, being close to you made all my dreams come true. When you came inside my life, now I'm lost inside of you."_

They kissed, a long, wet, luxurious kiss, pushing out Maca's fears and recapturing the sensual moment. Maca sat up, kneeling and straddling Martine, and Martine sat up with her. With surprising grace, Maca unfolded her knees and wrapped her legs around Martine's waist and her arms around Martine's neck. With Maca sitting on Martine's thighs, Martine's hands began to move freely over Maca's body, creating heat wherever she touched. When she caressed the tender skin inside Maca's leg, Maca kissed her, urging her to continue, humming yes's into Martine's mouth.

Martine's hand moved between them and found Maca's pleasure point, and for a moment Maca reveled in Martine's touch. With a shift of her hips, she brought Martine's fingers to the place that shouted for attention and long fingers entered and explored Maca's depths. As they pulled out, passing over sensitive nerves, Maca moaned and threw her head back in delight, arching her hips to take Martine's fingers deeply into herself. Martine kept one arm around Maca's hips and her other hand pulled and pushed deep inside of Maca. Maca's arms were wrapped tightly around Martine's neck until all of her energy was drawn to the space between her legs and she could no longer hold on. Then, Martine's strong arm supported her as she pushed again and again against Martine's fingers. Steadily, back and forth, the two women rocked. When Martine's thumb found a sensitive spot and began to rub there as well, Maca began to let out short, high-pitched sounds of welcome and pleasure that got louder and louder.

Maca shifted closer to Martine's hips and one of her hands found its way between Martine's thighs and entered her center of pleasure, and they stroked each other, hips rocking, rising to meet again and again. The world dropped away and Maca felt only the body wrapped around her, inside her.

"Oh, yes! Now, oh, now." Maca's encouragement sent waves of pleasure through Martine's body just as her hand was sending her once again. Together, ecstasy burst within them, sending wave after wave of pleasure flowing over both of them. They continued rocking until the waves softened and their breathing became more regular. Maca's arms wrapped around Martine's neck and Martine's arms wrapped around Maca's waist and they sat, embracing tightly, reveling in the scent of their love, the heat of their bodies, and their blended perfumes.

Maca hadn't paid attention to the music for some time. But as they sat there embracing in the afterglow of making love, out of the silence began a soft piano followed by a chorus of violins. And although she hadn't heard the song in twenty years, she knew it; she could picture the movie scene during which it played as if it was only yesterday.

It was from the movie "Somewhere in Time" with Jane Seymour and Christopher Reeve. An old woman had given him an ancient, rusted watch just before she died. And somehow he had found a way to go back fifty years and meet her as a young actress; and they fell in love. And although her manager had hired thugs to beat him, and she was supposed to leave for a play in another city, they found their ways back to each other and made love while this music softly played around them. After making love, they were sitting on the floor, eating and laughing about his out of date clothes. She took the watch from him and laughed at its age and to show her more antiques that he had brought with him, he pulled a penny out of his pocket. But it was a penny from his time, not hers, and he was thrust wickedly forward fifty years. The trip weakened him and he got sick. The night he died, she was there again, waiting for him, and the song once again played as they walked into the mists of time.

Martine and Maca had watched the movie on their tiny television late one night at school, falling in love with the story, with Jane Seymour and with the haunting music. Twenty years ago, Maca asked that if Martine ever left Spain, would she come back? Martine wept and promised that she would never leave. She would stay and love Maca for the rest of her life.

Martine could feel Maca's chest begin to rise and fall as she held her, the soft music floating around them. When she felt a warm wetness on her shoulder, she pushed Maca away just a little and saw that she was crying. Looking into teary eyes, she asked Maca what was wrong. The tears fell faster and she kept breathing in, trying to get air. Martine brushed the tears from one cheek and then the other.

"Cherie, please, tell me what's wrong." Martine begged her.

"¿Estarás volver para mi? Will you come back for me?" Maca asked between breaths and then collapsed into tears, weeping inconsolably for the loss that she knew would come too soon. "¿Estarás volver para mi? ¿Estarás volver? ¿Estarás volver?" she kept repeating.

"Oh, Cherie. Oh Maca." And Martine wept with her, rocking her, holding her tightly. "I'm here. I'm here." She kissed her hair, and rubbed her back. "Te quiero mucho, Maca. Te quiero mucho, mi amor." She used the language that Maca knew best, hoping the words would sink in. "I won't leave you. I'm here. I'm never going to leave you." She tried to soothe the weeping woman in her arms, hoping it could be true. The sharp pain in her chest told her that once again she was lying to the woman she loved.


	17. Chapter 17

They sat on the wooden chaise lounge, the terry-cloth covered pad soft on their bare skin, holding each other, trying to soothe each other. The songs Martine had added to her evening playlist had been meant to provoke and inspire their romantic evening. But that song had brought back memories of Martine's first departure and provoked thoughts of the impending departure that Maca had spent days trying to ignore.

The evening air chilled them but went unnoticed.

A light rain began to fall but it too went unnoticed.

Their passion was heating up again, aided by a new sense of urgency. Hands that had been holding tightly began to move across cool skin, lips that had been whispering soothing words of comfort and hope began to tenderly kiss sensitive necks and shoulders.

To Maca's surprise, Martine began to softly sing along with the next song that played, and Maca stopped, looking at her with amazed and loving eyes. _"I can't imagine any greater fear than waking up without you here. And though the sun would still shine, my whole world would all be gone. But not for long. If I had to run, if I had to crawl, if I had to swim a hundred rivers just to climb a thousand walls, always know that I would find a way to get to where you are. There's no place that far."_

Maca smiled and kissed the full red lips smiling back at her as the rest of the song continued. _"It wouldn't matter why we're apart: lonely miles, or two stubborn hearts. Nothing short of God above could turn me away from your love. I need you that much. If I had to run, if I had to crawl, if I had to swim a hundred rivers just to climb a thousand walls, always know that I would find a way to get to where you are. There's no place that far."_

In the back of their minds, each one wished that the words of the song would be true as they held each other, their arms wrapped tightly.

When the rain began to pour over them, the two women jumped up and grabbed the clothes at their feet and ran into the dark living room. Martine remembered something she wanted and ran back out the terrace and retrieved the champagne and one of the untouched covered dishes. Maca met her at the terrace door and she slipped back out as well, returning with the red rose Martine had given her and the white rose she had found in the living room.

"I'm keeping these." Maca promised. And she did. A year later while Esther was dusting books on a shelf, Maca's yearbook from her boarding school fell over. Esther opened it, leafing through the pages to find Maca's picture. When she came to the center of the book, she found the two roses, dried and flattened within the pages. On the page, among other photos of the school's winning athletes, was a black and white photo of two girls in field hockey uniforms, arms over shoulders, smiling proudly. She ran a finger over the photo and smiled, then closed the book reverently and returned it.

Martine led Maca down the darkened hallway and into her bedroom. The video aquarium had been changed to a warm fireplace that shed soft orange light but not heat. Maca asked her if the music could play in the bedroom and Martine put down the champagne and the covered dish and picked up a remote from the desk. She hit a button and Sarah McLachlan played softly through the apartment.

Then Martine led Maca to the large bed and the two nude women parted, each one climbing onto the bed from opposite sides, they crawled to the center, and continued kissing. They made love through the night as music from Lara Fabian, Sting, Celine Dion, Rosana and hours of others serenaded them. They stopped for a while when Maca's stomach growled and Martine retrieved the covered dish on the desk. The plate was filled with fruit cut into bite-sized pieces: oranges, apples, strawberries, honeydew melon, and red grapes, which they fed to each other. As the juice from a piece of honeydew dripped down Maca's hand, Martine kissed the hand and removed the juice, re-igniting Maca's desire.

Martine woke up on Saturday morning within Maca's embrace, the music still playing. As Maca was guided awake by Martine's kisses and caresses, soft, romantic music continued to play and they made love as the rising sun shed pink and yellow light over the city. They spent the day in bed, getting out only to make nude dashes to the kitchen. They grabbed a block of sharp cheddar cheese and a smaller block of white goat cheese and fresh Indian naan, as well as a leftover bowl of fruit, which they brought back to the bed and ate while watching television, talking and resting. They fed each other strawberries, pieces of cantaloupe and honeydew, slices of orange, and bits of cheese. Martine poured a little honey on the soft flat bread and fed pieces to Maca, helping to remove the golden liquid when it dripped on a bare spot of skin.

When they weren't eating or resting, they made love, exploring each other's bodies, learning what the other enjoyed, what made them moan in ecstasy, what made them plead for more. Their lovemaking continued to the shower that Maca enjoyed, warm water raining over them. Martine continued to bring explosions of pleasure and deep, guttural moans of passion from Maca. Returning to the bed, slightly toweled off from the shower, Maca returned the favor and Martine had to cover her face with a pillow to keep from embarrassing herself.

Each time Martine excused herself to go to the bathroom she would shut the door and give herself a brief exam. She found that the pain in her chest no longer subsided with one small white pill, so she started taking two pills and realized that their passionate interlude would soon have to end – she was running out of pills, and more importantly since the pills weren't working, she was running out of time.

When their bodies could no longer keep up with their passion, Maca pulled up the cover, wrapped Martine in her arms, and held her while the cardiologist slept. Maca closed her eyes and listened to the irregular heartbeat coming from the woman in her arms. In her mind, she roamed through every medical book she could remember seeking a cure. When she found none, she looked out the window at the dark purple sky and sought one last cure: she prayed. Searching her heart, she found the words she hoped would be heard and answered.

"Dios, thank you for bringing her back to me. I didn't realize how much I missed her. I was angry when I thought she left me without even saying goodbye. I lived my life thinking she was gone. Now I know that Martine didn't leave me but that she was taken from me and our lives were ripped apart. Somehow she was able to bring us back together and now I don't want to be apart ever again. Dios, I thank you for Esther and my children but I choose Martine, I want to be with Martine – not just for the rest of her life but for the rest of mine. Help me to find a cure for her so that I can stay and love her for the rest of my life. I don't want her to die."

Maca closed her eyes, hoping for an answer, an inspiration, but heard only the erratic heartbeat of the woman she loved. Silent tears began to stream down her cheeks and she pulled the sleeping woman closely to her. Martine, somehow sensing Maca's pain or perhaps having a conversation in a dream, whispered in her sleep, "I will love you forever," and snuggled into Maca's embrace. The pediatrician's tears began to flow again.


	18. Chapter 18

At 8:00 a.m. on Monday morning, Martine unfolded herself from Maca's arms and climbed out of the large bed. She had two phone calls to make and she didn't want the pediatrician to hear them. After putting on her lime green running shorts and a white tank top, she walked into the kitchen, retrieved a bottle of water and called Jimmy to request more pills. He was concerned that she was going through them so quickly but he immediately messengered over a fresh bottle. He also made her promise to come in for a check-up, which she reluctantly agreed to.

The second call was going to be harder to make. Unsure if she had heard Maca's prayer or if it had been a dream, she knew that the Spanish doctor's feelings were getting stronger and Maca was on the verge of leaving her full life in Spain in favor of a short time here with Martine, and Martine knew she had to fix that. But it was going to require help from an unusual source. She went back to the bedroom and made sure that Maca was still asleep, and then she closed the bedroom door and took her cell phone out to the terrace, closing that door behind her as well. In the warm morning, she laid down on one of the wooden chaise lounge chairs and, ignoring the pain in her chest, searched through the call list on the phone and found an unusually long number and hit the Send button. After four rings, Esther answered the phone.

"Hola?" Esther didn't recognize the number.

"Hola Esther. Soy Martine Monroe en Atlanta. Por favor tienes uno minuto por hablame?"

"Si," she said apprehensively.

Martine, in her best high school Spanish, tried to explain the purpose of her phone call. After a moment of silent reflection, Esther agreed to Martine's proposal and asked what she should do. Martine told her that a friend named Angela would get in touch with her and handle all the arrangements.

She placed another call to Angela, explaining what she needed. Through her tears, Angela promised to make the necessary arrangements.

Maca, wrapped in her white silk robe, knocked on the terrace door as Martine hung up the phone. Martine waved for her to come out. She had a glass of orange juice in one hand and the new bottle of pills in the other. As she sat on the edge of the lounge chair, she handed the glass to Martine who drank half of it and placed the glass on the table next to her. Then Maca handed the small brown bottle to Martine, who opened it and removed two pills. Placing them carefully in her mouth, she watched as the pediatrician began to comprehend the situation.

"I'm sorry, Cherie." Martine started. "I think we're running out of time."

Maca looked at her and placed a finger on her lips, she wasn't ready to hear that their time was ending; she needed more time to find a cure so she could keep Martine there with her. She arranged herself beside Martine and pulled her into an embrace, holding the cardiologist tightly against her, feeling the erratic heartbeat beneath her chest. Maca's mind re-evaluated every possibility, every known cure or procedure, and compiled a list of doctors she knew around the world with whom she could consult.

They stayed in the chair, silently holding each other, each one deep in their own thoughts.

Eventually Martine rose from the chair, and quietly went back to her bedroom. She turned on her computer, and after it booted up, she opened her email. A couple of clicks later, she had printed out a five page document and walked back out to the living room. Maca had come back into the living room and was waiting there. Martine continued to the call box and asked Sam to come up to the apartment.

When he arrived, Martine led him into the living room and sat him next to Maca. She placed the document on one of the coffee table blocks and handed him a pen. He looked down at it and with a trembling hand, leafed to the last page. He signed his name on one of the two blank witness lines and quietly got up and left the apartment, blowing his nose as the elevator door closed.

Maca had quietly watched as Sam came and went, and when she realized that Martine was waiting for her to sign the other blank line, she looked at the sick woman across from her incredulously.

"Estas loca. I will not sign that. No puedo. Don't ask me to sign that! NO PUEDO! I can't do that!" Maca insisted.

Martine simply looked at her, a sadness too deep for words had overcome her.

Maca stood up and angrily threw the document at her. The pen went flying and slid across the kitchen floor. "NO! Absolutamente NO!" Maca stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. She let out a string of Spanish curses and paced the floor.

When she saw the picture of themselves as girls, her tirade in rapid Spanish began again and she picked up the picture, ready to throw it out the window. She lifted the frame over her head. She aimed toward the wall of windows that overlooked the city. But she just stood there, her arm raised, trembling as her anger turned to overwhelming sorrow.

She pulled the picture to her chest and dropped to her knees, weeping fiercely. Martine opened the door and quietly knelt down in front of her and wrapped Maca in her arms, letting her cry.

As Maca's tears drained, she felt a weight on her shoulders and realized that Martine was leaning on her. She lifted the unconscious woman off her shoulders.

"Martine? Martine, wake up."

Maca lowered Martine to the floor and stretched her legs out. She continued calling her name as she examined the woman. There was no pulse. Maca immediately began CPR procedures: tilt the head, make sure the airway is clear, hold the nose and puff. One puff, five compressions, one puff, five compressions. Check the pulse. There was a pulse, very weak and erratic, but it was there. She rubbed her knuckles hard on Martine's chest, trying to get a reflexive response, and the unconscious woman moaned. Maca ran to the living room and found Martine's phone. She flipped it open and thumbed to the call list as she returned to the bedroom and sat down beside Martine. She immediately recognized Esther's number from the last time she called. _Had it only been two weeks?_ She arrowed down to Jimmy's name and hit the Send button.

"Hello?" Jimmy answered, surprised that Martine was calling back so soon.

"Hello, Jimmy. This is Maca."

"Hi Maca. Is everything okay?"

"No. I need an ambulance to Martine's apartment."

"Okay. I'll call them. Hang up and tell Sam that they're on the way. Then call Roberto, he'll know who to call."

"Vale. What about Emily?"

"I'll call her. I'll call you back in a little bit. I'm heading for Grady. I'll see you there."

"Okay. Thanks Jimmy." Maca closed the phone to end the call, and then flipped it back open to call Roberto.

She explained what was happening and he asked if he should pick her up there or meet her at the hospital. She said she would meet him at the hospital, she would ride with Martine.

After she hung up the phone, she checked on Martine again. She was still unconscious but was breathing and her heart still beat, too slowly.

She quickly dressed and waited beside Martine for the ambulance to come. About ten minutes later, she heard Sam calling from the elevator. He came into the bedroom followed by three EMT's. They pushed the gurney with their equipment down the hall. An oxygen tank was on the gurney and each EMT carried a red box. A dark-haired, thin woman with large brown eyes introduced herself as Barb and took charge. She asked Maca questions about Martine's condition, about what Maca had done, and if she knew any of Martine's medical history. She also asked if Martine had a Do Not Revive order and Maca said no.

The EMT's quickly examined the cardiologist. They called out her vital signs, began an IV drip, and put an oxygen mask over her face. They removed the wooden board from the gurney and slid it under Martine. Then they lifted her onto the gurney and put the oxygen tank between her legs. With one EMT leading the gurney and another pushing, Martine was moved to the elevator where Sam was waiting for them.

Two of the EMT's loaded Martine into the back of their ambulance and then jumped into their front seats. Barb sat in the back with Martine and continued to monitor her vital signs while Maca held her hand and prayed that this really wasn't the end.

Martine was seen only briefly by the Grady Emergency Room doctors before she was admitted to the cardiac intensive care unit, where cardiologists and CICU nurses were trained to deal with situations like Martine's. Emily, Annie, Roberto and Maca camped out in the CICU waiting room. Annie's sons and John came by later that afternoon, mostly to check on them and bring them foil wrapped plates for their dinner. At 7:00 p.m., Emily called her son Paul in California and told him Martine's status. She asked if he would be able to come to Atlanta. He said that both his wife and one of his daughters had the flu and he didn't think it would be a good time. She hung up on him. Jimmy went in and out of the secluded ward hourly and kept returning with the same report each time: she was stable but still unconscious.

Martine was connected to a defibrillator and each time her heart would slow or miss a beat, it would send a small electric pulse to restart her heart. She was also connected to an oxygen pump and an IV drip to maintain her fluid levels, and give her medicine and food if necessary. She had an angiogram, an echocardiogram, and an electrocardiogram to check the status of her heart and determine what stage of rejection it was in.

At 3:00 a.m. Tuesday morning, the machines began to beep excitedly and finally Martine woke up and asked for her aunt, who was awakened and brought in to the glass cubicle. She stayed for ten minutes and returned to the waiting room with a new report: Martine wanted to go home to Rancho Lucia. After some discussion between them, Roberto took Annie home with instructions for how they would prepare the house. Emily and Maca spent the night in the waiting room curled up on uncomfortably square chairs.

Jimmy came back at 6:00 a.m. and, after checking on Emily and Maca, went in to see Martine. He asked her one question: "Was this it; was she done?" She said no, she had even more of a reason to live now. He agreed that if her heart went two days without needing the heart machine, she could go home.

On Wednesday evening, Martine was moved out of the CICU into a private room. And on Friday afternoon, Martine went home – to Rancho Lucia.


	19. Chapter 19

Roberto drove around to the back of the house and stopped in front of the ramp leading to the library. He removed a wheelchair from the trunk and pulled it open as Martine stepped out, supported by Maca. Once Martine was in the wheelchair, Maca reached in and helped Emily get out of Roberto's black Mercedes. Emily took Maca's supportive arm and the two women followed Roberto and Martine into the library.

Annie was in the library fluffing a pillow on the newly added bed and she turned to see three surprised faces and Roberto's proud smile. The library looked relatively as it had for 30 years; but the hospital bed had been added, Martine's laptop had been brought from her apartment, the closet at the end of the room was filled with her clothes, and the ancient map of the world that had been over Martine's bed had been hung between two bookcases on the wall opposite the bed – it was Martine's favorite piece of artwork.

Dinner was waiting for them in the elegant dining room and Martine insisting on joining everyone else at the table. To her surprise only the family sat down to eat. When she asked where everyone else went, Emily explained that she sent some of the boarders to other B&B's in the area, and Mr. Dumont, the bow-tied widower was visiting his daughter in Cleveland. Martine looked around the table at her "family": Maca was to her left, next to her were Annie's sons Ralph and Abraham, Emily was at the other end of the table and Annie sat to her left, her uncle John sat in the middle, and Roberto was to Martine's right. Conversation during dinner was light and easy filled with comments about the delicious food, the warm weather, the horses and the bright springtime flowers. Ralph announced that he was planning to ask his girlfriend to marry him and everyone congratulated him and wished him good luck.

Dinner consisted of pork loin medallions, an apple-rosemary stuffing, and an asparagus and julienne carrot mixture, with individual dishes of flan for dessert. Martine ate a small amount of each item but quickly tired and excused herself and, leaning on Maca's steady arm, walked across the foyer and into the library.

Maca helped Martine change from a rather elegant but leisurely sweat suit, her "going home from the hospital" outfit, into a set of pink silk pajamas. As they sat discussing Martine's medicine schedule, Emily knocked on the door and brought in a tray of warm tea for them and a few minutes later, Annie followed with the cordless house phone – Jimmy was calling to check on Martine and to let her know that he would visit tomorrow morning. Martine talked with him for a few minutes, answering his questions in low yes's and no's.

Roberto looked in on the four women sitting in the library and thanked Annie for dinner, and kissed Martine softly on the forehead as he said goodnight. The mood in the house was slow and quiet and he felt like everyone in the house was whispering. He needed to get out! He wanted to yell and scream, he wanted to beat on something, he was ready to burst through the house shouting that it was too soon! He wasn't ready! Martine couldn't leave him! He walked out the door and jumped into the black sedan and drove as fast as he dared down the long driveway, through the iron gate, and through the rural roads until he got to Interstate 85. There he headed north, his speed unchecked, and it wasn't until he saw the signs for Greenville, South Carolina that he began to calm down. He slowed down when he realized that he had just driven 200 miles in less than two hours. He stopped at a Waffle House and ordered a cup of coffee and an order of hash browns with all the toppings, which cooled, uneaten, as he sat staring into the night.

As Roberto was speeding down the interstate, the four women sat in the library; Martine lying on the bed with Maca perched on the edge softly rubbing her back, and Emily and Annie in comfortably padded leather chairs placed in a semi-circle by the bed. They asked Maca about Hospital Central and she described some of the funnier situations like when the singer Chenoa had to be seen in the emergency room and a large group of teenagers camped outside the hospital doors but the sons of one of the doctors convinced Theresa, the head secretary, that they were sick and needed to be allowed into the examination area. She also described the brilliant but eccentric doctor Gimeno and his sweet crush on Claudia the beautiful neurologist.

Emily asked Maca if she had pictures of her children and Maca took out her wallet and showed them the picture of Pedro on the motorcycle, and a picture of Esther and the three happy children that had been taken on Esther's last birthday. Martine asked to see the picture, she had never seen a picture of Esther, and after looking at it she commented that Esther was pretty and the children seemed very happy. Maca smiled at her lovingly, pride in her eyes. Yes, she replied, her children were all very happy, very smart, and usually wonderfully behaved. Martine added "Except when they eat worms." And the two older women urged Maca to explain what Martine meant.

They laughed as they heard about Esther finding five-year-old Pedro and his friend Bernie eating earthworms, which led into an embarrassingly long list of the odd things that Emily found Martine eating when she was a child, from worms, marbles and buttons, to a jar a jalapenos peppers, a stick of butter, and an entire rum cake that was supposed to have been for a Christmas dinner. Emily described how nine-year-old Martine had gotten drunk from the cake and was running around the house in slow motion pretending to be the Bionic Woman. When Maca gave the older woman a confused look, Emily described the short-lived television show about the woman who had special mechanical implants that made her faster and stronger than ten men. Emily stood up and demonstrated the slow motion running and the well-known "do-do-do do-do-do" music that was used in the TV show and by every kid since 1976.

Watching her 68-year-old aunt do the famous slow motion running was too surreal for Martine and she laughed out loud along with the other women but then scrunched her face into a long and wide yawn. Shocked and embarrassed, she threw her hand over her mouth as the three loving women smiled at her good-naturedly. Emily took it as a sign to let her niece get some rest and she took Annie's hand and they headed for the kitchen to clean the dinner dishes and get the house settled for the night.

Maca realized that she had no idea what she was supposed to do. Roberto had left and couldn't take her back to the condo. She didn't think it was appropriate for her to stay in the library with Martine although the bed was big enough for both of them. She was sitting, stroking Martine's hair, trying to decide what to do when Emily peeked her head back into the library.

"Maca, we weren't sure what you wanted to do, so we had Sam send over some of your clothes and things. We put them in Martine's room upstairs." Emily said.

"Oh, gracias. I think I will get ready for bed as well."

But Martine took Maca's hand as she began to get up from the bed. "Can you stay for a while longer, please?"

"Vale, okay." Maca answered slightly puzzled.

Emily pulled the tall sliding doors together and left them in the quiet library holding hands, worried brown eyes looking into weary green eyes. Finally, Martine broke the silence.

"There's so much I want to say to you I don't know where to begin," she said. Maca nodded in agreement. "You were right when you said I have had a lot to be happy about: my family for one thing – Emily, Uncle John, Roberto. I wish I had known my mother better; all I remember is a smiling woman in a yellow dress. I know she loved me. Even my father loved me in his own way and when I see him I will have to ask him if he has changed his mind about gays and lesbians."

Maca was surprised that Martine thought he would be in heaven with her mother, given how he treated his sister and daughter. She had been shocked and furious when Martine shared her aunt's story with her; she never expected the warm, sweet man who loved horses and doted on her whenever she visited to be so bigoted and hateful. Then she wondered what Martine thought would happen to her when she died.

"When you see him? Where do you think he is? Where do you think you are going?" Maca spurted out in one breath.

"Heaven."

"What makes you think he's there? He was a bigot and a racist and he beat you and Senora Emily when he found out about both of you. He doesn't deserve heaven."

"That's exactly what he deserves." Martine softly answered. Maca's look of confusion urged Martine to explain what she meant; they had never talked about religion before. "Think about it. When Pedro ate worms, Esther didn't just throw him in the basement and leave him there. She was worried for him, she probably explained how eating earthworms isn't healthy 'tho it probably wouldn't kill him, and then she probably hugged him and told him she loved him."

"Being racist and beating you isn't the same as eating worms." Maca argued.

"True. But that's why we have God's grace. Who needs a reminder of God's love most: those that already believe and love and know that God is on their side, or those who are so far from goodness and love that they lash out at the world and tear it apart with their anger and hatred. Sickness, sadness, anger and hatred are usually medical or psychological disorders. Sometimes they can be cured like your daughter Patricia, sometimes they can be suspended like your sclerosis, and sometimes they can be delayed like my heart failure. With people like my daddy perhaps only God's love can cure them."

Maca was going to have to think about what Martine said; the concept was dangerously far from her Catholic upbringing. "But what about you? A delay is not a cure."

"True." Martine paused, a sad awareness overcoming her. "I was thinking about that in the hospital. Right now there is no cure for me here. Maybe one day someone will find one. For now the only cure for me is in heaven, which is why I know I will see my father – because I know I will be with God – and I know that Daddy's been with God learning about love and acceptance and forgiveness. _His_ _daddy_ didn't teach him those things, now _God_ will." Maca tightened her grasp on Martine's hands, love and admiration warring with the pain of losing her. "Which brings me to something I want to say to you," Martine added.

"Que? Que pasa?" Maca asked curiously.

"These last few weeks have been amazing; you have been amazing. But we can no longer ignore that I am dying. But you are not. I want you to promise me that you will go on with the rest of your life. Go back to Spain. Go back to Esther. Go back to your children and your family and, if you want to, go back to Hospital Central. You have given me everything I have ever wanted. Now give yourself the things _you_ have always wanted."

"What's that?"

"Love, family, service. Those are the things you've always wanted: someone to love and who loves you back, to have a family of your own, and to be a doctor. You have that in Spain, with Esther. Please don't give it up just because we reunited for a few weeks. Esther loves you, she wants you back."

"How do you know that?"

Martine couldn't reveal the truth about how she knew that so she answered from her own heart. "Because if I were her, I would wait for you and take you back. Go back to her."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"Promise me that you will at least think about it. I couldn't spend eternity thinking that you gave up your life because I wanted a few selfish moments with you."

"I don't…" Maca started but Martine cut her off impatiently.

"Promise me you'll think about going home. Promise me!" Martine insisted.

Not wanting to argue and cause the cardiologist to have another episode with her failing heart, Maca agreed. "Vale. Tranquila. Yo puedo. I will think about it."

"Okay. Thank you." Martine closed her eyes, weary from the discussion, and with her conscience eased, she leaned back and relaxed into her pillows.

Maca saw that Martine was falling asleep and rose from the bed to go upstairs. "I'm going to get ready for bed. Is there anything you need before I go?"

But Martine was fast asleep and didn't answer her.

Maca pushed the sliding doors apart and walked up the grand staircase, past the empty bedrooms on the second floor and up the staircase to the third floor. She pushed open the door to her assigned bedroom and saw her overnight bag and a neat pile of her clothes sent from the condo. She looked in her overnight bag and found her toiletries. She washed her face, brushed her teeth and brushed her hair, put on her pajamas – blue silk shorts and a matching tank top – and feeling anxious and alone on the empty floor, she went back downstairs.

As Maca descended and reached the top of the grand staircase, she paused. The doors to the library were open and she could see Martine lying in bed and Emily sitting on the edge of the bed just holding her hand. Maca sat down on the third stair and realized that she was much taller than she had been at six-years-old so she moved down to the fifth stair from the top. She sat there, watching them just as she had watched when her father and Mr. Monroe were in the library. She sent up a silent prayer thanking God that her father had continued to love her after he learned that she was a lesbian and had finally accepted her lifestyle. She also thanked God that he had accepted Esther and her children – they were her family too.

Martine kept fading in and out of sleep. There was a moment when she realized that Emily was with her and she thought it was time to tell Emily about the plan she had worked out with Esther. She asked Emily to take her cell phone and call Esther; she wasn't sure she could actually make that call – despite all that she had said to Maca, she didn't have the heart to give Maca back to Esther – that would signify that she was giving up the fight for love and life.

Emily agreed to make the phone call, understanding Martine's helplessness: letting go of Maca meant letting go of the one driving force left in her life, letting go of her last reason for living.

With the cell phone in her apron pocket, Emily emerged from the library and made sure that the front door was locked – Roberto still hadn't returned but he had a key – and when she turned around to go back to her own bedroom where Annie was waiting for her, she saw Maca sitting near the top of the staircase. She walked up silently and sat next to Maca, wondering how the lovely visitor had found this perfect spot from which to observe the patient in the library. After a few minutes watching her sleeping niece with Maca, Emily looked over and saw the pediatrician shaking, trying to control her emotions. Emily gently put an arm around Maca's shoulders.

Maca knew that she was going to have to choose between putting her personal feelings aside to comfort her dying friend; or lose herself in the pain and despair she felt because she was about to lose the first person she ever loved, her first kiss, her first lover, the first person to accept her completely, unconditionally. Esther might be the person she spends the rest of her life with but Martine was the beginning of that life.

 _She would spend the rest of her life with Esther_ , she thought. _She would spend the rest of her life with Esther._ The thought kept repeating in her mind until she finally realized it was true. _She would spend the rest of her life with Esther!_ Esther was the one she loved more than anyone else she had ever been with; Esther was her wife regardless of what the paperwork said. Esther was the mother of her children. Esther was her lover, her future, her life.

With a certainty rooted deep within Maca's very being, Maca's trembling subsided and she took a deep breath. She looked over at Emily, kissed her on the cheek as she would have done her own mother, and walked down the stairs and into the library. Maca looked at the sleeping woman and had one more intense moment of self-awareness as she thought to herself: _Don't kid yourself Macarena; this is going to be Hell._

Emily went to her own room and made the call that her niece didn't have the strength of will to make. Esther answered her cell phone; Emily introduced herself and explained why she was calling. Prepared for this moment, Esther reassured her that she understood. She hung up the phone and immediately began putting the plan into action.

Later in the night, Maca awoke and had to take a moment to get her bearings. She had fallen asleep in a soft chair that she placed beside Martine's bed. She stood, stretched her back and pushed open the library doors just wide enough for her to squeeze through, and went back to her bedroom on the third floor. She took her cell phone out of her backpack, flipped it open and keyed in *001, Esther's speed-dial number. After three rings, the answering service picked up and she heard Esther and their three children tell her that no one was available and to please leave a message. She looked at her watch, added five hours and wondered where they all were; it was 7:00 a.m. in Madrid and Esther would normally be getting the children ready for school. The answering service beeped and Maca tried to put all of her thoughts into that one message but she went blank and simply hung up the phone. After a minute listening to the silence of the grand old house, Maca redialed the phone number, listened for the answering machine, and left a message that she hoped Esther would hear and understand.

Maca went back downstairs to sit beside her friend's hospital bed, and as she reached the foyer, the front door opened and Roberto entered the house. As she continued toward him, he looked at her and started to go back out the front door, but she caught his arm and turned him around.

The anger in his eyes turned to fear and then to sorrow. And though he tried with all of his will to stop them, the tears fell. He lowered his head, trying to hide, trying to stay strong, but when he felt Maca's hand on his shoulder, his walls tumbled and he fell into her waiting arms, weeping. He didn't want to lose Martine; he couldn't see his life without her; he couldn't imagine a world without her smile and her bright green eyes, and her deep laughter. Martine was his best friend, his sister, his playmate and confidante; and somewhere, deep within the shadows of his heart, his one love. And with that realization, he fell into Maca's arms and they crumbled to the floor and his whole body shook as he cried. Maca rocked him, cooing soft sounds as if he were her own child.

Neither one of them heard the footsteps from the library. It seemed that Martine just simply appeared in her pink silk pajamas as she sat down beside them. She put her hand on Maca's shoulder and the pediatrician looked up, her own eyes red and wet as she wept with Roberto. Roberto looked up and saw Martine. She touched his face and all the feelings and sorrow resurged and his tears began again. Martine pulled him to her and Maca wrapped her arms around Martine, and the three of them sat there in the foyer, holding each other, rocking, crying.

Time stood still. The house sat quietly wrapped around the three crying people until faintly from under the kitchen door came the soft sound of Edith Piaf. Martine heard it first and began to giggle softly. As the other two looked at her through tearstained eyes, she whispered for them to listen and pointed toward the kitchen door. Both Roberto and Maca heard the music, but it was Roberto who caught on first and grinned widely, trying to keep from laughing. Maca finally understood that this was the first time that the other two associated the late night music with Emily and Annie's relationship and it was like catching their parents in a romantic moment. It didn't matter that Emily was having a similar breakdown in the room she now shared with Annie, and Annie had turned on the music to cover up the sounds of her lover weeping. In the foyer, tears turned to giggles and the three of them ran into the library, closed the doors, and burst into laughter.

Martine, weak from the emotional strain, sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at her two friends as their laughter finally faded. Roberto looked at her and she smiled at him softly, understanding so much of what he could never say to her. Had she been able to love anyone else, it would have been him. She looked at Maca, whose look said so much as well; and she understood that too. Martine's heart, the real one and the emotional one, was weary and she didn't want to dwell on the fact that Maca would actually be able to go on without her. She lay back down on the bed and pulled the sheet around her.

Roberto came to the edge of the bed and bent down to kiss her on the forehead. As he began to stand up to go, Martine wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her, hugging him fiercely. She felt his body convulse within her arms, his pain resurfacing, and she whispered in his ear, "You're the best friend I've ever had. I love you so much."

He choked back the tears as he told her, "I love you, too." Then he stood up and walked out of the library without looking back, knowing that if he did, he would break down again. The two women watched him go and waited until they heard the back door close and his steps across the back porch. Had he gone out the front, Martine would have been worried that he would leave and go looking for trouble. Because he went out the back, she knew that he would go to his father's cottage, his cottage now, beyond the stables and be safe for the night. He was home.


End file.
